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I 


NOBODY'S  BOY 


"  THE  FIRST  APPEARANCE  OF  REMl'S  COMPANY.' 

(See  paye  230) 


NOBODY'S 
BOY 


(Sans  Famille) 


BY 

HECTOR  MALOT 

TRANSLATED  BY 

FLORENCE  CREWE-JONES 

ILLUSTRATED  IN  COLOR  BY 

JOHN  B.  GRUELLE 


NEW  YORK      *      MDCCCCXVI 
CUPPLES  &   LEON    COMPANY 


Copyright,  1018,  by 
OUPPLES  A  LEON  COUP  ANT 


College 
tau 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PACK 

I    MY  VILLAGE  HOME 1 

II    MT  ADOPTED  FATHER .10 

III  SIGNOR  VITALIS'  COMPANY 21 

IV  THE   MATERNAL   HOUSE 35 

V    EN    ROUTE 43 

VI    MY  DEBUT 49 

VII    CHILD  AND  ANIMAL  LEARNING 61 

VIII    ONE~  WHO  HAD  KNOWN  A  KING 67 

IX    ARRESTED       74 

X    HOMELESS 85 

XI    ANOTHER  BOY'S  MOTHER 109 

XII    THE  MASTER'S  CONSENT 120 

XIII  WEARY  DREARY  DAYS 128 

XIV  THE  DEATH  OF  PRETTY-HEART 148 

XV    FAITHFUL  FRIENDS 163 

XVI    THE  PADRONE 169 

XVII    POOR  VITALIS 184 

XVIII    NEW  FRIENDS 194 

XIX    DISASTER 205 

XX    MATTIA 220 

XXI    MEETING  OLD  FRIENDS 236 

XXII    IMPRISONED  IN  A  MINE 244 

XXIII  ONCE  MORE  UPON  THE  WAY 262 

XXIV  FRIENDSHIP  THAT  Is  TRUE 270 

XXV    MOTHER,  BROTHERS  AND  SISTERS 294 

XXVI    BITTER  DISAPPOINTMENT '.     .  304 

XXVII    A  DISTRESSING  DISCOVERY 312 

v 


If  1 


vi  CONTENTS 


CHAPTEB  PAOH 

XXVIII    A  MYSTEBIOUS  STBANGEB 330 

XXIX    IN  PRISON 335 

XXX    ESCAPE 345 

XXXI    HUNTING  FOB  THE  SWAN 353 

XXXII    FINDING  A  REAL  MOTHEB 359 

XXXIII  THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE  .                                      .868 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


"THE  FIBBT  APPEARANCE  OF  REMI'S  COMPANT"  (See  Page 
230) Frontispiece 

PAGE 
"  I'LL  GIVE  You  THIRTY  FRANCS  FOR  HIM  " 33 

"  FOR  EACH  CRT  You  WILL  RECEIVE  ANOTHER  SLASH  "  .     .  181 
"LET  Us  Now  PLAT  FOR  THOSE  WE  LOVE" 371 


INTRODUCTION 


"  NOBODY'S  BOY,"  published  in  France  under  the 
title  "  Sans  Famille,"  has  become  justly  famous  as 
one  of  the  supreme  juvenile  stories  of  the  world.  In 
the  midst  of  its  early  popularity,  it  was  crowned 
by  the  Academy,  and  has  stood  the  test  of  time  as 
one  of  the  masterpieces  of  French  literature. 

"  Nobody's  Boy  "  is  a  human  document  of  child 
experiences  that  is  fascinating  reading  for  young 
and  old.  Parents,  teachers  and  others  who  are 
careful  to  have  their  children  read  inspiring  books 
of  ennobling  ideals,  will  welcome  this  beautiful 
story  of  Hector  Malot,  as  among  the  best  for  them 
to  recommend. 

Such  digressions  in  the  original,  as  do  not  belong 
to  the  heart  of  the  story,  have  been  eliminated,  so 
that  the  lost  boy's  experiences  continue  as  the  un- 
disturbed interest,  on  through  to  the  happy  con- 
clusion. 

Loyal  friendship  and  honest  conduct  are  the  vital 
ideals  of  this  story,  and  the  heart  interest  is  ex- 
pressed with  such  simplicity,  directness  and  pathos, 
that  the  reader  enters  at  once  into  fellowship  with 
the  wanderers,  and  shares  in  all  their  adventures  to 
the  end. 

THB  PUBLISHERS. 
i* 


NOBODY'S  BOY 


CHAPTER  I 

MY  VILLAGE  HOME 

I  WAS  a  foundling.  But  until  I  was  eight  years 
of  age  I  thought  I  had  a  mother  like  other 
children,  for  when  I  cried  a  woman  held  me  tightly 
in  her  arms  and  rocked  me  gently  until  my  tears 
stopped  falling.  I  never  got  into  bed  without  her 
coming  to  kiss  me,  and  when  the  December  winds 
blew  the  icy  snow  against  the  window  panes,  she 
would  take  my  feet  between  her  hands  and  warm 
them,  while  she  sang  to  me.  Even  now  I  can  re- 
member the  song  she  used  to  sing.  If  a  storm 
came  on  while  I  was  out  minding  our  cow,  she 
would  run  down  the  lane  to  meet  me,  and  cover  my 
head  and  shoulders  with  her  cotton  skirt  so  that 
I  should  not  get  wet. 

When  I  had  a  quarrel  with  one  of  the  village 
boys  she  made  me  tell  her  all  about  it,  and  she 
would  talk  kindly  to  me  when  I  was  wrong  and 
praise  me  when  I  was  in  the  right.  By  these  and 
many  other  things,  by  the  way  she  spoke  to  me  and 
looked  at  me,  and  the  gentle  way  she  scolded  me, 

I  believed  that  she  was  my  mother. 

1 


NOBODY'S  BOY 


My  village,  or,  to  be  more  exact,  the  village 
where  I  was  brought  up,  for  I  did  not  have  a  vil- 
lage of  my  OWM,  no  birthplace,  any  more  than  I 
had  a  father  or  mother  —  the  village  where  I  spent 
my  childhood  was  called  Chavanon ;  it  is  one  of  the 
poorest  in  France.  Only  sections  of  the  land 
could  be  cultivated,  for  the  great  stretch  of  moors 
was  covered  with  heather  and  broom.  We  lived 
in  a  little  house  down  by  the  brook. 

Until  I  was  eight  years  of  age  I  had  never  seen 
a  man  in  our  house;  yet  my  adopted  mother  was 
not  a  widow,  but  her  husband,  who  was  a  stone- 
cutter, worked  in  Paris,  and  he  had  not  been  back 
to  the  village  since  I  was  of  an  age  to  notice  what 
was  going  on  around  me.  Occasionally  he  sent 
news  by  some  companion  who  returned  to  the  vil- 
lage, for  there  were  many  of  the  peasants  who  were 
employed  as  stone-cutters  in  the  city. 

"Mother  Barberin,"  the  man  would  say,  "your 
husband  is  quite  well,  and  he  told  me  to  tell  you 
that  he's  still  working,  and  to  give  you  this  money. 
Will  you  count  it?  " 

That  was  all.  Mother  Barberin  was  satisfied, 
her  husband  was  well  and  he  had  work. 

Because  Barberin  was  away  from  home  it  must 
not  be  thought  that  he  was  not  on  good  terms  with 
his  wife.  He  stayed  in  Paris  because  his  work 
kept  him  there.  When  he  was  old  he  would  come 
back  and  live  with  his  wife  on  the  money  that  he 
had  saved. 

One  November  evening  a  man  stopped  at  our 


MY  VILLAGE  HOME 3 

gate.  I  was  standing  on  the  doorstep  breaking 
sticks.  He  looked  over  the  top  bar  of  the  gate 
and  called  to  me  to  know  if  Mother  Barberin  lived 
there.  I  shouted  yes  and  told  him  to  come  in.  He 
pushed  open  the  old  gate  and  came  slowly  up  to 
the  house.  I  had  never  seen  such  a  dirty  man. 
He  was  covered  with  mud  from  head  to  foot.  It 
was  easy  to  see  that  he  had  come  a  distance  on 
bad  roads.  Upon  hearing  our  voices  Mother  Bar- 
berin ran  out. 

"  Fve  brought  some  news  from  Paris,"  said  the 
man. 

Something  in  the  man's  tone  alarmed  Mother 
Barberin. 

"Oh,  dear,"  she  cried,  wringing  her  hands, 
"  something  has  happened  to  Jerome !  " 

"  Yes,  there  is,  but  don't  get  scared.  He's  been 
hurt,  but  he  ain't  dead,  but  maybe  he'll  be  de- 
formed. I  used  to  share  a  room  with  him,  and  as 
I  was  coming  back  home  he  asked  me  to  give  you 
the  message.  I  can't  stop  as  I've  got  several  miles 
to  go,  and  it's  getting  late." 

But  Mother  Barberin  wanted  to  know  more;  she 
begged  him  to  stay  to  supper.  The  roads  were  so 
bad!  and  they  did  say  that  wolves  had  been  seen 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  wood.  He  could  go  early 
in  the  morning.  Wouldn't  he  stay? 

Yes,  he  would.  He  sat  down  by  the  corner  of 
the  fire  and  while  eating  his  supper  told  us  how 
the  accident  had  occurred.  Barberin  had  been 
terribly  hurt  by  a  falling  scaffold,  and  as  he  had 


NOBODY'S  BOY 


had  no  business  to  be  in  that  particular  spot,  the 
builder  had  refused  to  pay  an  indemnity. 

"  Poor  Barberin,"  said  the  man  as  he  dried  the 
legs  of  his  trousers,  which  'were  now  quite  stiff 
under  the  coating  of  mud,  "  he's  got  no  luck,  no 
luck !  Some  chaps  would  get  a  mint  o'  money  out 
of  an  affair  like  this,  but  your  man  won't  get 
nothing ! " 

"  No  luck!  "  he  said  again  in  such  a  sympathetic 
tone,  which  showed  plainly  that  he  for  one  would 
willingly  have  the  life  half  crushed  out  of  his  body 
if  he  could  get  a  pension.  "  As  I  tell  him,  he  ought 
to  SUQ  that  builder." 

"  A  lawsuit,"  exclaimed  Mother  Barberin,  "  that 
costs  a  lot  of  money." 

"  Yes,  but  if  you  win !  " 

Mother  Barberin  wanted  to  start  off  to  Paris, 
only  it  was  such  a  terrible  affair  .  .  .  the  journey 
was  so  long,  and  cost  so  much ! 

The  next  morning  we  went  into  the  village  and 
consulted  the  priest.  He  advised  her  not  to  go 
without  first  finding  out  if  she  could  be  of  any  use. 
He  wrote  to  the  hospital  where  they  had  taken  Bar- 
berin, and  a  few  days  later  received  a  reply  saying 
that  Barberin's  wife  was  not  to  go,  but  that  she 
could  send  a  certain  sum  of  money  to  her  husband, 
because  he  was  going  to  sue  the  builder  upon  whose 
works  he  had  met  with  the  accident. 

Days  and  weeks  passed,  and  from  time  to  time 
letters  came  asking  for  more  money.  The  last, 
more  insistent  than  the  previous  ones,  said  that  if 


MY  VILLAGE  HOME 


there  was  no  more  money  the  cow  must  be  sold  to 
procure  the  sum. 

Only  those  who  have  lived  in  the  country  with 
the  peasants  know  what  distress  there  is  in  these 
three  words,  "  Sell  the  cow."  As  long  as  they  have 
their  cow  in  the  shed  they  know  that  they  will  not 
suffer  from  hunger.  We  got  butter  from  ours  to 
put  in  the  soup,  and  milk  to  moisten  the  potatoes. 
We  lived  so  well  from  ours  that  until  the  time  of 
which  I  write  I  had  hardly  ever  tasted  meat.  But 
our  cow  not  only  gave  us  nourishment,  she  was  our 
friend.  Some  people  imagine  that  a  cow  is  a 
stupid  animal.  It  is  not  so,  a  cow  is  most  intel- 
ligent When  we  spoke  to  ours  and  stroked  her 
and  kissed  her,  she  understood  us,  and  with  her 
big  round  eyes  which  looked  so  soft,  she  knew  well 
enough  how  to  make  us  know  what  she  wanted  and 
what  she  did  not  want.  In  fact,  she  loved  us  and 
we  loved  her,  and  that  is  all  there  is  to  say.  How- 
ever, we  had  to  part  with  her,  for  it  was  only  by 
the  sale  of  the  cow  that  Barberin's  husband  would 
be  satisfied. 

A  cattle  dealer  came  to  our  house,  and  after 
thoroughly  examining  Rousette, —  all  the  time 
shaking  his  head  and  saying  that  she  would  not  suit 
him  at  all,  he  could  never  sell  her  again,  she  had 
no  milk,  she  made  bad  butter, —  he  ended  by  say- 
ing that  he  would  take  her,  but  only  out  of  kind- 
ness because  Mother  Barberin  was  an  honest  good 
woman. 

Poor  Rousette,  as  though  she  knew  what  was 


6 NOBODY'S  BOY 

happening,  refused  to  come  out  of  the  barn  and  be- 
gan to  bellow. 

"  Go  in  at  the  back  of  her  and  chase  her  out,"  the 
man  said  to  me,  holding  out  a  whip  which  he  had 
carried  hanging  round  his  neck. 

"  No,  that  he  won't,"  cried  mother.  Taking  poor 
Rousette  by  the  loins,  she  spoke  to  her  softly: 
"  There,  my  beauty,  come  .  .  .  come  along  then." 

Rousette  could  not  resist  her,  and  then,  when 
she  got  to  the  road,  the  man  tied  her  up  behind  his 
cart  and  his  horse  trotted  off  and  she  had  to  follow. 

We  went  back  to  the  house,  but  for  a  long  time 
we  could  hear  her  bellowing.  No  more  milk,  no 
butter !  In  the  morning  a  piece  of  bread,  at  night 
some  potatoes  with  salt. 

Shrove  Tuesday  happened  to  be  a  few  days  after 
we  had  sold  the  cow.  The  year  before  Mother 
Barberin  had  made  a  feast  for  me  with  pancakes 
and  apple  fritters,  and  I  had  eaten  so  many  that 
she  had  beamed  and  laughed  with  pleasure.  But 
now  we  had  no  Rousette  to  give  us  milk  or  butter, 
so  there  would  be  no  Shrove  Tuesday,  I  said  to  my- 
self sadly. 

But  Mother  Barberin  had  a  surprise  for  me. 
Although  she  was  not  in  the  habit  of  borrowing, 
she  had  asked  for  a  cup  of  milk  from  one  of  the 
neighbors,  a  piece  of  butter  from  another,  and 
when  I  got  home  about  mid-day  she  was  emptying 
the  flour  into  a  big  earthenware  bowl. 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  going  up  to  her,  "  flour?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  it's  flour,  my  lit- 


tie  Remi,  beautiful  flour.  See  what  lovely  flakes 
it  makes." 

Just  because  I  was  so  anxious  to  know  what  the 
flour  was  for  I  did  not  dare  ask.  And  besides  I 
did  not  want  her  to  know  that  I  remembered  that 
it  was  Shrove  Tuesday  for  fear  she  might  feel  un- 
happy. 

"  What  does  one  make  with  flour?  "  she  asked, 
smiling  at  me. 

"  Bread." 

"  What  else?  " 

"  Pap." 

"  And  what  else?  " 

"  Why,  I  don't  know." 

"  Yes,  you  know,  only  as  you  are  a  good  little 
boy,  you  don't  dare  say.  You  know  that  to-day  is 
Pancake  day,  and  because^  you  think  we  haven't 
any  butter  and  milk  you  don't  dare  speak.  Isn't 
that  so,  eh?  " 

"  Oh,  Mother." 

"  I  didn't  mean  that  Pancake  day  should  be  so 
bad  after  all  for  my  little  Remi.  Look  in  that 
bin." 

I  lifted  up  the  lid  quickly  and  saw  some  milk, 
butter,  eggs,  and  three  apples. 

"  Give  me  the  eggs,"  she  said ;  "  while  I  break 
them,  you  peel  the  apples." 

While  I  cut  the  apples  into  slices,  she  broke  the 
eggs  into  the  flour  and  began  to  beat  the  mixture, 
adding  a  little  milk  from  time  to  time.  When  the 
paste  was  well  beaten  she  placed  the  big  earthen- 


8 NOBODY'S  BOY 

ware  bowl  on  the  warm  cinders,  for  it  was  not  until 
supper  time  that  we  were  to  have  the  pancakes  and 
fritters.  I  must  say  frankly  that  it  was  a  very 
long  day,  and  more  than  once  I  lifted  up  the  cloth 
that  she  had  thrown  over  the  bowl. 

"  You'll  make  the  paste  cold,"  she  cried ;  "  and 
it  won't  rise  well." 

But  it  was  rising  well,  little  bubbles  were  com- 
ing up  on  the  top.  And  the  eggs  and  milk  were 
beginning  to  smell  good. 

"Go  and  chop  some  wood,"  Mother  Barberin 
said ;  "  we  need  a  good  clear  fire." 

At  last  the  candle  was  lit. 

"  Put  the  wood  on  the  fire !  " 

She  did  not  have  to  say  this  twice;  I  had  been 
waiting  impatiently  to  hear  these  words.  Soon  a 
bright  flame  leaped  up  the  chimney  and  the  light 
from  the  fire  lit  up  all  the  kitchen.  Then  Mother 
Barberin  took  down  the  frying  pan  from  its  hook 
and  placed  it  on  the  fire. 

"  Give  me  the  butter !  " 

With  the  end  of  her  knife  she  slipped  a  piece  as 
large  as  a  nut  into  the  pan,  where  it  melted  and 
spluttered.  It  was  a  long  time  since  we  had 
smelled  that  odor.  How  good  that  butter  smelled ! 
I  was  listening  to  it  fizzing  when  I  heard  footsteps 
out  in  our  yard. 

Whoever  could  be  coming  to  disturb  us  at  this 
hour?  A  neighbor  perhaps  to  ask  for  some  fire- 
wood. I  couldn't  think,  for  just  at  that  moment 
Mother  Barberin  put  her  big  wooden  spoon  into  the 


MY  VILLAGE  HOME 0 

bowl  and  was  pouring  a  spoonful  of  the  paste  into 
the  pan,  and  it  was  not  the  moment  to  let  one's 
thoughts  wander.  Somebody  knocked  on  the  door 
with  a  stick,  then  it  was  flung  open. 

"  Who's  there?  "  asked  Mother  Barberin,  with- 
out turning  round. 

A  man  had  come  in.  By  the  bright  flame  which 
lit  him  up  I  could  see  that  he  carried  a  big  stick 
in  his  hand. 

"  So,  you're  having  a  feast  here,  don't  disturb 
yourselves,"  he  said  roughly. 

"  Oh,  Lord ! "  cried  Mother  Barberin,  putting 
the  frying  pan  quickly  on  the  floor,  "  is  it  you, 
Jerome." 

Then  taking  me  by  the  arm  she  dragged  me  to- 
wards the  man  who  had  stopped  in  the  doorway. 

"  Here's  your  father." 


CHAPTER  II 

MY  ADOPTED  FATHER 

MOTHER  BARBERIN  kissed  her  husband ;  I 
was  about  to  do  the  same  when  he  put  out 
his  stick  and  stopped  me. 

"What's  this?  ...  you  told  me  .  .  ." 

"Well,  yes,  but  it  isn't  true  .  .  .  because  .  .  ." 

"Ah,  it  isn't  true,  eh?" 

He  stepped  towards  me  with  his  stick  raised; 
instinctively  I  shrunk  back.  What  had  I  done? 
Nothing  wrong,  surely!  I  was  only  going  to  kiss 
him.  I  looked  at  him  timidly,  but  he  had  turned 
from  me  and  was  speaking  to  Mother  Barberin. 

"  So  you're  keeping  Shrove  Tuesday,"  he  said. 
"  I'm  glad,  for  I'm  famished.  What  have  you  got 
for  supper?  " 

"  I  was  making  some  pancakes  and  apple  frit- 
ters." 

"  So  I  see,  but  you're  not  going  to  give  pancakes 
to  a  man  who  has  covered  the  miles  that  I  have." 

"  I  haven't  anything  else.  You  see  we  didn't 
expect  you." 

"What?  nothing  else!  Nothing  for  supper!" 
He  glanced  round  the  kitchen. 

"  There's  some  butter." 

He  looked  up  at  the  ceiling,  at  the  spot  where 

10 


MY  ADOPTED  FATHER          11 

the  bacon  used  to  hang,  but  for  a  long  time  there 
had  been  nothing  on  the  hook ;  only  a  few  ropes  of 
onions  and  garlic  hung  from  the  beam  now. 

'-'  Here's  some  onions,"  he  said,  knocking  a  rope 
down  with  his  big  stick ;  "  with  four  or  five  onions 
and  a  piece  of  butter  we'll  have  a  good  soup.  Take 
out  the  pancakes  and  fry  the  onions  in  the  pan ! " 

"  Take  the  pancakes  out  of  the  frying  pan !  " 

Without  a  word,  Mother  Barberin  hurried  to  do 
what  her  husband  asked.  He  sat  down  on  a  chair 
by  the  corner  of  the  fireplace.  I  had  not  dared 
to  leave  the  place  where  his  stick  had  sent  me. 
Leaning  against  the  table,  I  looked  at  him. 

He  was  a  man  about  fifty  with  a  hard  face  and 
rough  ways.  His  head  leaned  a  little  bit  towards 
his  right  shoulder,  on  account  of  the  wound  he 
had  received,  and  this  deformity  gave  him  a  still 
more  forbidding  aspect. 

Mother  Barberin  had  put  the  frying  pan  again 
on  the  fire. 

"  Is  it  with  a  little  bit  of  butter  like  that  you're 
going  to  try  and  make  a  soup?  "  he  asked.  There- 
upon he  seized  the  plate  with  the  butter  and  threw 
it  all  into  the  pan.  No  more  butter  .  .  .  then  .  .  . 
no  more  pancakes. 

At  any  other  moment  I  should  have  been  greatly 
upset  at  this  catastrophe,  but  I  was  not  thinking 
of  the  pancakes  and  fritters  now.  The  thought 
that  was  uppermost  in  my  mind  was,  that  this  man 
who  seemed  so  cruel  was  my  father!  My  father! 
Absently  I  said  the  word  over  and  over  again  to 


12 NOBODY'S  BOY 

myself.  I  had  never  thought  much  what  a  father 
would  be.  Vaguely,  I  had  imagined  him  to  be  a 
sort  of  mother  with  a  big  voice,  but  in  looking  at 
this  one  who  had  fallen  from  heaven,  I  felt  greatly 
worried  and  frightened.  I  had  wanted  to  kiss  him 
and  he  had  pushed  me  away  with  his  stick.  Why? 
My  mother  had  never  pushed  me  away  when  I  went 
to  kiss  her ;  on  the  contrary,  she  always  took  me  in 
her  arms  and  held  me  tight. 

"  Instead  of  standing  there  as  though  you're 
made  of  wood,"  he  said,  "  put  the  plates  on  the 
table." 

I  nearly  fell  down  in  my  haste  to  obey.  The 
soup  was  made.  Mother  Barberin  served  it  on  the 
plates.  Then,  leaving  the  big  chimney  corner,  he 
came  and  sat  down  and  commenced  to  eat,  stop* 
ping  only  from  time  to  time  to  glance  at  me.  I  felt 
so  uncomfortable  that  I  could  not  eat.  I  looked 
at  him  also,  but  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye,  then 
I  turned  my  head  quickly  when  I  caught  his  eye. 

"Doesn't  he  eat  more  than  that  usually?"  he 
asked  suddenly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  he's  got  a  good  appetite." 

"  That's  a  pity.  He  doesn't  seem  to  want  his 
supper  now,  though." 

Mother  Barberin  did  not  seem  to  want  to  talk. 
She  went  to  and  fro,  waiting  on  her  husband. 

"Ain't  you  hungry?" 

"No." 

"Well  then,  go  to  bed  and  go  to  sleep  at  once. 
If  you  don't  I'll  be  angry." 


MY  ADOPTED  FATHER  13 

My  mother  gave  me  a  look  which  told  me  to  obey 
without  answering.  But  there  was  no  occasion  for 
this  warning.  I  had  not  thought  of  saying  a  word. 

As  in  a  great  many  poor  homes,  our  kitchen  was 
also  the  bedroom.  Near  the  fireplace  were  all  the 
things  for  the  meals  —  the  table,  the  pots  and  pans, 
and  the  sideboard;  at  the  other  end  was  the  bed- 
room. In  a  corner  stood  Mother  Barberin's  big 
bed,  in  the  opposite  corner,  in  a  little  alcove,  was 
my  bed  under  a  red  figured  curtain. 

I  hurriedly  undressed  and  got  into  bed.  But  to 
go  to  sleep  was  another  thing.  I  was  terribly  wor- 
ried and  very  unhappy.  How  could  this  man  be 
my  father?  And  if  he  was,  why  did  he  treat  me 
so  badly? 

With  my  nose  flattened  against  the  wall  I  tried 
to  drive  these  thoughts  away  and  go  to  sleep  as  he 
had  ordered  me,  but  it  was  impossible.  Sleep 
would  not  come.  I  had  never  felt  so  wide  awake. 

After  a  time,  I  could  not  say  how  long,  I  heard 
some  one  coming  over  to  my  bed.  The  slow  step 
was  heavy  and  dragged,  so  I  knew  at  once  that  it 
was  not  Mother  Barberin.  I  felt  a  warm  breath  on 
my  cheek. 

"Are  you  asleep?"  This  was  said  in  a  harsh 
whisper. 

I  took  care  not  to  answer,  for  the  terrible  words, 
"  I'll  be  angry  "  still  rang  in  my  ears. 

"  He's  asleep,"  said  Mother  Barberin ;  "  the  mo- 
ment he  gets  into  bed  he  drops  off.  You  can  talk 
without  being  afraid  that  he'll  hear." 


14 NOBODY'S  BOY 

I  ought,  of  course,  to  have  told  him  that  I  was 
not  asleep,  but  I  did  not  dare.  I  had  been  or- 
dered to  go  to  sleep,  I  was  not  yet  asleep,  so  I  was 
in  the  wrong. 

"  Well,  what  about  your  lawsuit?  "  asked  Mother 
Barberin. 

"  Lost  it.  The  judge  said  that  I  was  to  blame 
for  being  under  the  scaffold."  Thereupon  he 
banged  his  fist  on  the  table  and  began  to^swear, 
without  saying  anything  that  meant  anything. 

"  Case  lost,"  he  went  on  after  a  moment ;  "  money 
lost,  all  gone,  poverty  staring  us  in  the  face.  And 
as  though  that  isn't  enough,  when  I  get  back  here, 
I  find  a  child.  Why  didn't  you  do  what  I  told  you 
to  do?  " 

"  Because  I  couldn't." 

"  You  could  not  take  him  to  a  Foundlings' 
Home?  " 

"  A  woman  can't  give  up  a  little  mite  like  that 
if  she's  fed  it  with  her  own  milk  and  grown  to  love 
it." 

"  It's  not  your  child." 

"Well,  I  wanted  to  do  what  you  told  me,  but 
just  at  that  very  moment  he  fell  ill." 

"111?" 

"  Yes.  Then  I  couldn't  take  him  to  that  place. 
He  might  have  died." 

"  But  when  he  got  better?  " 

"Well,  he  didn't  get  better  all  at  once.  After 
that  sickness  another  came.  He  coughed  so  it 
would  have  made  your  heart  bleed  to  Ijear  him, 


MY  ADOPTED  FATHER          15 

poor  little  mite.  Our  little  Nicolas  died  like  that. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  if  I  sent  him  to  the  Found- 
lings' Home  he'd  died  also." 

"  But  after?  .  .  .  after?  " 

"  Well,  time  went  on  and  I  thought  that  as  I'd 
put  off  going  I'd  put  it  off  a  bit  longer." 

"  How  old  is  he  now?  " 

"  Eight." 

"  Well  then,  he'll  go  now  to  the  place  where  he 
should  have  gone  sooner,  and  he  won't  like  it  so 
well  now." 

"Oh,  Jerome,  you  can't  .  .  .  you  won't  do 
that!" 

"  Won't  I?  and  who's  going  to  stop  me?  Do  you 
think  we  can  keep  him  always?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  I  was  hardly 
able  to  breathe.  The  lump  in  my  throat  nearly 
choked  me.  After  a  time  Mother  Barberin  went 
on: 

"  How  Paris  has  changed  you !  You  wouldn't 
have  spoken  like  that  to  me  before  you  went  away." 

"  Perhaps  not.  But  if  Paris  has  changed  me, 
it's  also  pretty  near  killed  me.  I  can't  work  now. 
We've  got  no  money.  The  cow's  sold.  When  we 
haven't  enough  to  feed  ourselves,  have  we  got  to 
feed  a  child  that  don't  belong  to  us?  " 

"  He's  mine." 

"  He's  no  more  yours  than  mine.  Besides,  he 
ain't  a  country  boy.  He's  no  poor  man's  child. 
He's  a  delicate  morsel,  no  arms,  no  legs." 

"  He's  the  prettiest  boy  in  the  village !  " 


16 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  I  don't  say  he  ain't  pretty.  But  sturdy,  no ! 
Do  you  think  you  can  make  a  working  man  out  of 
a  chit  with  shoulders  like  his?  He's  a  city  child 
and  there's  no  place  for  city  children  here." 

"  I  tell  you  he's  a  fine  boy  and  as  intelligent  and 
cute  as  a  little  cat,  and  he's  got  a  good  heart,  and 
he'll  work  for  us.  .  .  .*' 

"  In  the  meantime  we've  got  to  work  for  him, 
and  I'm  no  good  for  much  now." 

"  If  his  parents  claim  him,  what  will  you  say?  " 

"His  parents!  Has  he  got  any  parents?  They 
would  have  found  him  by  now  if  he  had.  It  was 
a  crazy  thing  for  me  to  think  that  his  parents 
would  come  and  claim  him  some  day  and  pay  us 
for  his  keep.  I  was  a  fool.  'Cause  he  was 
wrapped  up  in  fine  clothes  trimmed  with  lace,  that 
wasn't  to  say  that  his  parents  were  going  to  hunt 
for  him.  Besides,  they're  dead." 

"Perhaps  they're  not.  And  one  day  they  may 
come  .  .  ." 

"  If  you  women  ain't  obstinate !  " 

"  But  if  they  do  come?  " 

"  Well,  we've  sent  him  to  the  Home.  But  we've 
said  enough.  I'll  take  him  to-morrow.  I'm  going 
'round  to  see  Francois  now.  I'll  be  back  in  an 
hour." 

The  door  was  opened  and  closed  again.  He  had 
gone.  Then  I  quickly  sat  up  in  bed  and  began  to 
call  to  Mother  Barberin. 

"Say!  Mamma!" 

She  ran  over  to  my  bed. 


MY  ADOPTED  FATHER  17 

"  Are  you  going  to  let  me  go  to  the  Foundlings' 
Home?  " 

"  No,  my  little  Remi,  no." 

She  kissed  me  and  held  me  tight  in  her  arms.  I 
felt  better  after  that  and  my  tears  dried  on  my 
cheeks. 

"  You  didn't  go  to  sleep,  then?  "  she  asked  softly. 

"  It  wasn't  my  fault." 

"  I'm  not  scolding  you.  You  heard  what  he  said, 
then?  " 

"Yes,  you're  not  my  mamma,  but  ...  he  isn't 
my  father." 

The  last  words  I  had  said  in  a  different  tone 
because,  although  I  was  unhappy  at  learning  that 
she  was  not  my  mother,  I  was  glad,  I  was  almost 
proud,  to  know  that  he  was  not  my  father.  This 
contradiction  of  my  feelings  betrayed  itself  in  my 
voice.  Mother  Barberin  did  not  appear  to  notice. 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  told  you  the  truth,  but 
you  seemed  so  much  my  own  boy  that  I  couldn't 
tell  you  I  was  not  your  real  mother.  You  heard 
what  Jerome  said,  my  boy.  He  found  you  one 
day  in  a  street  in  Paris,  the  Avenue  de  Breuteuil. 
It  was  in  February,  early  in  the  morning,  he  was 
going  to  work  when  he  heard  a  baby  cry,  and  he 
found  you  on  a  step.  He  looked  about  to  call  some 
one,  and  as  he  did  so  a  man  came  out  from  behind 
a  tree  and  ran  away.  You  cried  so  loud  that  Je- 
rome didn't  like  to  put  you  back  on  the  step  again. 
While  he  was  wondering  what  to  do,  some  more 
men  came  along,  and  they  all  decided  that  they'd 


18 NOBODY'S  BOY 

take  you  to  the  police  station.  You  wouldn't  stop 
crying.  Poor  mite,  you  must  have  been  cold.  But 
then,  when  they  got  you  warm  at  the  station  house, 
you  still  cried,  so  they  thought  you  were  hungry, 
and  they  got  you  some  milk.  My!  you  were  hun- 
gry !  When  you'd  had  enough  they  undressed  you 
and  held  you  before  the  fire.  You  were  a  beautiful 
pink  boy,  and  all  dressed  in  lovely  clothes.  The 
lieutenant  wrote  down  a  description  of  the  clothes 
and  where  you  were  found,  and  said  that  he  should 
have  to  send  you  to  the  Home  unless  one  of  the  men 
liked  to  take  charge  of  you.  Such  a  beautiful,  fine 
child  it  wouldn't  be  difficult  to  bring  up,  he  said, 
and  the  parents  would  surely  make  a  search  for  it 
and  pay  any  one  well  for  looking  after  it,  so  Jerome 
said  he'd  take  it.  Just  at  that  time  I  had  a  baby 
the  same  age.  So  I  was  well  able  to  feed  both  you 
two  mites.  There,  dearie,  that  was  how  I  came 
to  be  your  mother.'' 

"  Oh,  Mamma,  Mamma !  " 

"  Yes,  dearie,  there !  and  at  the  end  of  three 
months  I  lost  my  own  little  baby  and  then  I  got 
even  more  fond  of  you.  It  was  such  a  pity  Jerome 
couldn't  forget,  and  seeing  at  the  end  of  three  years 
that  your  parents  hadn't  come  after  you,  he  tried 
to  make  me  send  you  to  the  Home.  You  heard 
why  I  didn't  do  as  he  told  me?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  send  me  to  the  Home,"  I  cried,  cling- 
ing to  her,  "  Mother  Barberin,  please,  please,  don't 
send  me  to  the  Home." 

"No,  dearie,  no,  you  shan't  go.     I'll  settle  it. 


MY  ADOPTED  FATHER  19 

Jerome  is  not  really  unkind,  you'll  see.  He's  had 
a  lot  of  trouble  and  he  is  kind  of  worried  about 
the  future.  We'll  all  work,  you  shall  work, 
too." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I'll  do  anything  you  want  me  to  do, 
but  don't  send  me  to  the  Home." 

"  You  shan't  go,  that  is  if  you  promise  to  go  to 
sleep  at  once.  When  he  returns  he  mustn't  find 
you  awake." 

She  kissed  me  and  turned  me  over  with  my  face 
to  the  wall.  I  wanted  to  go  to  sleep,  but  I  had  re- 
ceived too  hard  a  blow  to  slip  off  quietly  into  slum- 
berland.  Dear  good  Mother  Barberin  was  not  my 
own  mother!  Then  what  was  a  real  mother? 
Something  better,  something  sweeter  still?  It 
wasn't  possible !  Then  I  thought  that  a  real  father 
might  not  have  held  up  his  stick  to  me.  ...  He 
wanted  to  send  me  to  the  Home,  would  mother  be 
able  to  prevent  him? 

In  the  village  there  were  two  children  from  the 
Home.  They  were  called  "  workhouse  children." 
They  had  a  metal  plaque  hung  round  their  necks 
with  a  number  on  it.  They  were  badly  dressed, 
and  so  dirty !  All  the  other  children  made  fun  of 
them  and  threw  stones  at  them.  They  chased  them 
like  boys  chase  a  lost  dog,  for  fun,  and  because  a 
stray  dog  has  no  one  to  protect  it.  Oh,  I  did  not 
want  to  be  like  those  children.  I  did  not  want  to 
have  a  number  hung  round  my  neck.  I  did  not 
want  them  to  call  after  me,  "  Hi,  Workhouse  Kid ; 
Hi  Foundling!  "  The  very  thought  of  it  made  me 


20  NOBODY'S  BOY 

feel  cold  and  my  teeth,  chatter.     I  could  not  go  to 
sleep.    And  Barberin  was  coming  back  soon.! 

But  fortunately  he  did  not  return  until  very  late, 
and  sleep  came  before  he  arrived. 


CHAPTER  III 

SIGNOE  VITALIS'   COMPANY 

THAT  night  I  dreamed  that  I  had  been  taken  to 
the  Home.  When  I  opened  my  eyes  in  the 
early  morning  I  could  scarcely  believe  that  I  was 
still  there  in  my  little  bed.  I  felt  the  bed  and 
pinched  my  arms  to  see  if  it  were  true.  Ah,  yes, 
I  was  still  with  Mother  Barberin. 

She  said  nothing  to  me  all  the  morning,  and  I 
began  to  think  that  they  had  given  up  the  idea  of 
sending  me  away.  Perhaps  she  had  said  that  she 
was  determined  to  keep  me.  But  when  mid  day 
came  Barberin  told  me  to  put  on  my  cap  and  fol- 
low him.  I  looked  at  Mother  Barberin  to  implore 
her  to  help  me.  Without  her  husband  noticing 
she  made  me  a  sign  to  go  with  him.  I  obeyed.  She 
tapped  me  on  the  shoulder  as  I  passed  her,  to  let 
me  know  that  I  had  nothing  to  fear.  Without  a 
word  I  followed  him. 

It  was  some  distance  from  our  house  to  the  vil- 
lage—  a  good  hour's  walk.  Barberin  never  said 
a  word  to  me  the  whole  way.  He  walked  along, 
limping.  Now  and  again  he  turned  'round  to  see 
if  I  was  following.  Where  was  he  taking  me? 
I  asked  myself  the  question  again  and  again.  De- 
spite the  reassuring  sign  that  Mother  Barberin  had 
made,  I  felt  that  something  was  going  to  happen 

21 


22  NOBODY'S  BOY 

to  me  and  I  wanted  to  run  away.  I  tried  to  lag 
behind,  thinking  that  I  would  jump  down  into  a 
ditch  where  Barberin  could  not  catch  me. 

At  first  he  had  seemed  satisfied  that  I  should 
tramp  along  just  behind  him,  on  his  heels,  but  he 
evidently  soon  began  to  suspect  what  I  intended 
to  do,  and  he  grabbed  me  by  the  wrist.  I  was 
forced  to  keep  up  with  him.  This  was  the  way  we 
entered  the  village.  Every  one  who  passed  us 
turned  round  to  stare,  for  I  looked  like  a  bad  dog 
held  on  a  leash. 

As  we  were  about  to  pass  the  tavern,  a  man  who 
was  standing  in  the  doorway  called  to  Barberin 
and  asked  him  to  go  in.  Barberin  took  me  by  the 
ear  and  pushed  me  in  before  him,  and  when  we  got 
inside  he  closed  the  door.  I  felt  relieved.  This 
was  only  the  village  tavern,  and  for  a  long  time  I 
had  wanted  to  see  what  it  was  like  inside.  I  had 
often  wondered  what  was  going  on  behind  the  red 
curtains,  I  was  going  to  know  now.  .  .  . 

Barberin  sat  down  at  a  table  with  the  boss  who 
had  asked  him  to  go  in.  I  sat  by  the  fireplace. 
In  a  corner  near  me  there  was  a  tall  old  man  with 
a  long  white  beard.  He  wore  a  strange  costume. 
I  had  never  seen  anything  like  it  before.  Long 
ringlets  fell  to  his  shoulders  and  he  wore  a  tall 
gray  hat  ornamented  with  green  and  red  feathers. 
A  sheepskin,  the  woolly  side  turned  inside,  was  fas- 
tened round  his  body.  There  were  no  sleeves  to 
the  skin,  but  through  two  large  holes,  cut  beneath 
the  shoulders,  his  arms  were  thrust,  covered  with 


SIGNOR  VITALIS'  COMPANY      23 

velvet  sleeves  which  had  once  been  blue  in  color. 
Woolen  gaiters  reached  up  to  his  knees,  and  to  hold 
them  in  place  a  ribbon  was  interlaced  several  times 
round  his  legs.  He  sat  with  his  elbow  resting  on 
his  crossed  knees.  I  had  never  seen  a  living  per- 
son in  such  a  quiet  calm  attitude.  He  looked  to 
me  like  one  of  the  saints  in  our  Church.  Lying 
beside  him  were  three  dogs  —  a  white  spaniel,  a 
black  spaniel,  and  a  pretty  little  gray  dog  with  a 
sharp,  cute  little  look.  The  white  spaniel  wore  a 
policeman's  old  helmet,  which  was  fastened  under 
its  chin  with  a  leather  strap. 

While  I  stared  at  the  man  in  wonder,  Barberin 
and  the  owner  of  the  tavern  talked  in  low  voices. 
I  knew  that  I  was  the  subject  of  their  talk.  Bar- 
berin was  telling  him  that  he  had  brought  me  to 
the  village  to  take  me  to  the  mayor's  office,  so  that 
the  mayor  should  ask  the  Charity  Home  to  pay  for 
my  keep.  That  was  all  that  dear  Mother  Barberin 
had  been  able  to  do,  but  I  felt  that  if  Barberin 
could  get  something  for  keeping  me  I  had  nothing 
to  fear. 

The  old  man,  who  without  appearing,  had  evi- 
dently been  listening,  suddenly  pointed  to  me,  and 
turning  to  Barberin  said  with  a  marked  foreign 
accent : 

"  Is  that  the  child  that's  in  your  way?  " 

«  That's  him." 

"And  you  think  the  Home  is  going  to  pay  you 
for  his  keep?" 

"  Lord !  as  he  ain't  got  no  parents  and  I've  been 


24 NOBODY'S  BOY 

put  to  great  expense  for  him,  it  is  only  right  that 
the  town  should  pay  me  something." 
/     "I  don't  say  it  isn't,  but  do  you  think  that  just 
y  because  a  thing  is  right,  it's  done?  " 

"That,  no!" 

"Well,  then  I  don't  think  you'll  ever  get  what 
you're  after." 

"  Then  he  goes  to  the  Home,  there's  no  law  that 
forces  me  to  keep  him  in  my  place  if  I  don't  want 
to." 

"  You  agreed  in  the  beginning  to  take  him,  so  it's 
up  to  you  to  keep  your  promise." 

"  Well,  I  ain't  going  to  keep  him.  And  when  I 
want  to  turn  him  out  I'll  do  so." 

"  Perhaps  there's  a  way  to  get  rid  of  him  now," 
said  the  old  man  after  a  moment's  thought,  "  and 
make  a  little  money  into  the  bargain." 

"  If  you'll  show  me  how,  I'll  stand  a  drink." 

"  Order  the  drinks,  the  affair's  settled." 

"  Sure?  " 

"  Sure." 

The  old  man  got  up  and  took  a  seat  opposite 
Barberin.  A  strange  thing,  as  he  rose,  I  saw  his 
sheepskin  move.  It  was  lifted  up,  and  I  wondered 
if  he  had  another  dog  under  his  arm. 

What  were  they  going  to  do  with  me?  My  heart 
beat  against  my  side,  I  could  not  take  my  eyes  off 
the  old  man. 

"  You  won't  let  this  child  eat  any  more  of  your 
bread  unless  somebody  pays  for  it,  that's  it,  isn't 
it?" 


SIGNOR  VITALIS'  COMPANY      25 

"  That's  it  ...  because  .  .  ." 

"Never  mind  the  reason.  That  don't  concern 
me.  Now  if  you  don't  want  him,  just  give  him  to 
me.  I'll  take  charge  of  him." 

"  You?  take  charge  of  him !  " 

"  You  want  to  get  rid  of  him,  don't  you?  " 

"  Give  you  a  child  like  him,  a  beautiful  boy,  for 
he  is  beautiful,  the  prettiest  boy  in  the  village,  look 
at  him." 

"  I've  looked  at  him." 

"  Remi,  come  here." 

I  went  over  to  the  table,  my  knees  trembling. 

"  There,  don't  be  afraid,  little  one,"  said  the  old 
man. 

"  Just  look  at  him,"  said  Barberin  again. 

"  I  don't  say  that  he  is  a  homely  child,  if  he  was 
I  wouldn't  want  him.  I  don't  want  a  monster." 

"  Ah,  now  if  he  was  a  monster  with  two  ears,  or 
even  a  dwarf  .  .  ." 

"  You'd  keep  him,  you  could  make  your  fortune 
out  of  a  monster.  But  this  little  boy  is  not  a 
dwarf,  nor  a  monster,  so  you  can't  exhibit  him :  he's 
made  the  same  as  others,  and  he's  no  good  for  any- 
thing." 

"  He's  good  for  work." 

"  He's  not  strong." 

"  Not  strong,  him !  Land's  sakes !  He's  as 
strong  as  any  man,  look  at  his  legs,  they're  that 
solid!  Have  you  ever  seen  straighter  legs  than 
hie?  " 

Barberin  pulled  up  my  pants. 


26 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  Too  thin,"  said  the  old  man. 

"And  his  arms?"  continued  Barberin. 

"  Like  his  legs  .  .  .  might  be  better.  They  can't 
hold  out  against  fatigue  and  poverty." 

"What,  them  legs  and  arms?  Feel  'em.  Just 
see  for  yourself." 

The  old  man  passed  his  skinny  hand  over  my 
legs  and  felt  them,  shaking  his  head  the  while  and 
making  a  grimace. 

I  had  already  seen  a  similar  scene  enacted  when 
the  cattle  dealer  came  to  buy  our  cow.  He  also 
had  felt  and  pinched  the  cow.  He  also  had  shaken 
his  head  and  said  that  it  was  not  a  good  cow,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  sell  it  again,  and  yet  after 
all  he  had  bought  it  and  taken  it  away  with  him. 
Was  the  old  man  going  to  buy  me  and  take  me  away 
with  him?  Oh,  Mother  Barberin!  Mother  Bar- 
berin ! 

If  I  had  dared  I  would  have  said  that  only  the 
night  before  Barberin  had  reproached  me  for  seem- 
ing delicate  and  having  thin  arms  and  legs,  but  I 
felt  that  I  should  gain  nothing  by  it  but  an  angry 
word,  so  I  kept  silent. 

For  a  long  time  they  wrangled  over  my  good  and 
bad  points. 

"  Well,  such  as  he  is,"  said  the  old  man  at  last, 
"  I'll  take  him,  but  mind  you,  I  don't  buy  him  out- 
right. I'll  hire  him.  I'll  give  you  twenty  francs 
a  year  for  him." 

"  Twenty  francs !  " 

"  That's  a  good  sum,  and  I'll  pay  in  advance." 


"  But  if  I  keep  him  the  town  will  pay  me  more 
than  ten  francs  a  month." 

"  I  know  what  you'd  get  from  the  town,  and  be- 
sides you've  got  to  feed  him." 

"  He  will  work." 

"  If  you  thought  that  he  could  work  you  wouldn't 
be  so  anxious  to  get  rid  of  him.  It  is  not  for  the 
money  that's  paid  for  their  keep  that  you  people 
take  in  lost  children,  it's  for  the  work  that  you  can 
get  out  of  them.  You  make  servants  of  them,  they 
pay  you  and  they  themselves  get  no  wages.  If 
this  child  could  have  done  much  for  you,  you 
would  have  kept  him." 

"Anyway,  I  should  always  have  ten  francs  a 
month." 

"And  if  the  Home,  instead  of  letting  you  have 
him,  gave  him  to  some  one  else,  you  wouldn't  get 
anything  at  all.  Now  with  me  you  won't  have  to 
run  for  your  money,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  hold 
out  your  hand." 

He  pulled  a  leather  purse  from  his  pocket,  count- 
ing out  four  silver  pieces  of  money ;  he  threw  them 
down  on  the  table,  making  them  ring  as  they  fell. 

"  But  think,"  cried  Barberin ;  "  this  child's  par- 
ents will  show  up  one  day  or  the  other." 

"  What  does  that  matter?  " 

"  Well,  those  who've  brought  him  up  will  get 
something.  If  I  hadn't  thought  of  that  I  wouldn't 
have  taken  him  in  the  first  place." 

Oh !  the  wicked  man !  How  I  did  dislike  Bar- 
berin! 


28 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  Now,  look  here,  it's  because  you  think  his  par- 
ents won't  show  up  now  that  you're  turning  him 
out,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Well,  if  by  any  chance 
they  do  appear,  they'll  go  straight  to  you,  not  to 
me,  for  nobody  knows  me." 

"  But  if  it's  you  who  finds  them?  " 

"  Well,  in  that  case  we'll  go  shares  and  I'll  put 
thirty  down  for  him  now." 

"  Make  it  forty." 

"  No,  for  what  he'll  do  for  me  that  isn't  possible." 

"What  do  you  want  him  to  do  for  you?  For 
good  legs,  he's  got  good  legs;  for  good  arms,  he's 
got  good  arms.  I  hold  to  what  I  said  before. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  with  him?  " 

Then  the  old  man  looked  at  Barberin  mockingly, 
then  emptied  his  glass  slowly : 

"  He's  just  to  keep  me  company.  I'm  getting 
old  and  at  night  I  get  a  bit  lonesome.  When  one 
is  tired  it's  nice  to  have  a  child  around." 

"Well,  for  that  I'm  sure  his  legs  are  strong 
enough." 

"  Oh,  not  too  much  so,  for  he  must  also  dance 
and  jump  and  walk,  and  then  walk  and  jump  again. 
He'll  take  his  place  in  Signor  Vitalis'  traveling 
company." 

"Where's  this  company?" 

"  I  am  Signor  Vitalis,  and  I'll  show  you  the 
company  right  here." 

With  this  he  opened  the  sheepskin  and  took  out 
a  strange  animal  which  he  held  on  his  left  arm, 
pressed  against  his  chest.  This  was  the  animal 


SIGNOR  VITALIS'  COMPANY      29 

that  had  several  times  raised  the  sheepskin,  but  it 
was  not  a  little  dog  as  I  had  thought.  I  found  no 
name  to  give  to  this  strange  creature,  which  I  saw 
for  the  first  time.  I  looked  at  it  in  astonishment. 
It  was  dressed  in  a  red  coat  trimmed  with  gold 
braid,  but  its  arms  and  legs  were  bare,  for  they 
really  were  arms  and  legs,  and  not  paws,  but  they 
were  covered  with  a  black,  hairy  skin,  they  were 
not  white  or  pink.  The  head  which  was  as  large 
as  a  clenched  fist  was  wide  and  short,  the  turned-up 
nose  had  spreading  nostrils,  and  the  lips  were  yel- 
low. But  what  struck  me  more  than  anything, 
were  the  two  eyes,  close  to  each  other,  which  glit- 
tered like  glass. 

"  Oh,  the  ugly  monkey !  "  cried  Barberin. 

A  monkey!  I  opened  my  eyes  still  wider.  So 
this  was  a  monkey,  for  although  I  had  never  seen 
a  monkey,  I  had  heard  of  them.  So  this  little  tiny 
creature  that  looked  like  a  black  baby  was  a  mon- 
key! 

"  This  is  the  star  of  my  company,"  said  Signor 
Vitalis.  "  This  is  Mr.  Pretty-Heart.  Now,  Pretty- 
Heart," —  turning  to  the  animal  — "  make  your 
bow  to  the  society." 

The  monkey  put  his  hand  to  his  lips  and  threw 
a  kiss  to  each  of  us. 

"Now,"  continued  Signor  Vitalis,  holding  out 
his  hand  to  the  white  spaniel,  "  the  next.  Signor 
Capi  will  have  the  honor  of  introducing  his  friends 
to  the  esteemed  company  here  present." 

The  spaniel,  who  up  till  this  moment  had  not 


30 NOBODY'S  BOY 

made  a  movement,  jumped  up  quickly,  and  stand- 
ing on  his  hind  paws,  crossed  his  fore  paws  on  his 
chest  and  bowed  to  his  master  so  low  that  his  po- 
lice helmet  touched  the  ground.  This  polite  duty 
accomplished,  he  turned  to  his  companions,  and 
with  one  paw  still  pressed  on  his  chest,  he  made  a 
sign  with  the  other  for  them  to  draw  nearer.  The 
two  dogs,  whose  eyes  had  been  fixed  on  the  white 
spaniel,  got  up  at  once  and  giving  each  one  of  us 
his  paw,  shook  hands  as  one  does  in  polite  society, 
and  then  taking  a  few  steps  back  bowed  to  us  in 
turn. 

"  The  one  I  call  '  Capi,' "  said  Signor  Vitalis, 
"which  is  an  abbreviation  of  Cggtiano^in.  Italian, 
is  the  chief.  He  is  the  most  intelligent  and  he 
conveys  my  orders  to  the  others.  That  black 
haired  ^pung  dandy  is  Signor  Zerbino,  which  sig- 
nifies *  the  sport.'  Notice  him  and  I  am  sure  you 
will  admit  that  the  name  is  very  appropriate.  And 
that  young  person  with  the  modest  air  is  ^iss 
Dulcie.  She  is  English,  and  her  name  is  chosen 
on  account  of  her  sweet  disposition.  With  these 
remarkable  artistes  I  travel  through  the  country, 
earning  my  living,  sometimes  good,  sometimes  bad, 
.  .  .  it  is  a  matter  of  luck!  Capi!  .  .  ." 

The  spaniel  crossed  his  paws. 

"  Capi,  come  here,  and  be  on  your  best  behavior. 
These  people  are  well  brought  up,  and  they  must 
be  spoken  to  with  great  politeness.  Be  good 
enough  to  tell  this  little  boy  who  is  looking  at  you 
with  such  big,  round  eyes  what  time  it  is." 


SIGNOR  VITALIS'  COMPANY      31 

Capi  uncrossed  his  paws,  went  up  to  his  master, 
drew  aside  the  sheepskin,  and  after  feeling  in  his 
vest  pocket  pulled  out  a  large  silver  watch.  He 
looked  at  the  watch  for  a  moment,  then  gave  two 
distinct  barks,  then  after  these  two  decisive  sharp 
barks,  he  uttered  three  little  barks,  not  so  loud  nor 
so  clear. 

The  hour  was  quarter  of  three. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Vitalis ;  "  thank  you,  Signer 
Capi.  And  now  ask  Miss  Dulcie  to  oblige  us  by 
dancing  with  the  skipping  rope." 

Capi  again  felt  in  his  master's  vest  pocket  and 
pulled  out  a  cord.  He  made  a  brief  sign  to  Zer- 
bino,  who  immediately  took  his  position  opposite 
to  him.  Then  Capi  threw  him  one  end  of  the  cord 
and  they  both  began  to  turn  it  very  gravely.  Then 
Dulcie  jumped  lightly  into  the  rope  and  with  her 
beautiful  soft  eyes  fixed  on  her  master,  began  to 
skip. 

"  You  see  how  intelligent  they  are,"  said  Vitalis ; 
"  their  intelligence  would  be  even  more  appreciated 
if  I  drew  comparisons.  For  instance,  if  I  had  a 
fool  to  act  with  them.  That  is  why  I  want  your 
boy.  He  is  to  be  the  fool  so  that  the  dogs'  intel- 
ligence will  stand  out  in  a  more  marked  manner." 

"  Oh,  he's  to  be  the  fool  .  .  ."  interrupted  Bar- 
berin. 

"  It^takes^a  clever  man  to  play  the  fool,"  said 
Vitalis,  "  the  boy  will  be  able  to  act  the  part  with 
a  few  lessons.  We'll  test  him  at  once.  If  he  has 
any  intelligence  he  will  understand  that  with  me 


32 


he  will  be  able  to  see  the  country  and  other  coun- 
tries besides ;  but  if  he  stays  here  all  he  can  do  is 
to  drive  a  herd  of  cattle  in  the  same  fields  from 
morning  to  night.  If  he  hasn't  any  intelligence 
he'll  cry  and  stamp  his  feet,  and  then  I  won't  take 
him  with  me  and  he'll  be  sent  to  the  Foundlings' 
Home,  where  he'll  have  to  work  hard  and  have  lit- 
tle to  eat." 

I  had  enough  intelligence  to  know  this,  .  .  .  the 
dogs  were  very  funny,  and  it  would  be  fun  to  be 
with  them  always,  but  Mother,  Mother  Barberin! 
.  .  .  I  could  not  leave  her!  .  .  .  Then  if  I  refused 
perhaps  I  should  not  stay  with  Mother  Barberin 
...  I  might  be  sent  to  the  Home.  I  was  very  un- 
happy, and  as  my  eyes  filled  with  tears,  Signor 
Vitalis  tapped  me  gently  on  the  cheek. 

"  Ah,  the  little  chap  understands  because  he  does 
not  make  a  great  noise.  He  is  arguing  the  matter 
in  his  little  head,  and  to-morrow  .  .  ." 

"  Oh,  sir,"  I  cried,  "  let  me  stay  with  Mother 
Barberin,  please  let  me  stay." 

I  could  not  say  more,  for  Capi's  loud  barking 
interrupted  me.  At  the  same  moment  the  dog 
sprang  towards  the  table  upon  which  Pretty-Heart 
was  seated.  The  monkey,  profiting  by  the  moment 
when  every  one  was  occupied  with  me,  had  quickly 
seized  his  master's  glass,  which  was  full  of  wine, 
and  was  about  to  empty  it.  But  Capi,  who  was  a 
good  watch  dog,  had  seen  the  monkey's  trick  and 
like  the  faithful  servant  that  he  was,  he  had  foiled 
him. 


"I'LL  CIVK  vor  THIRTY  FRANCS  FOR  HIM." 


SIGNOR  VITALIS'  COMPANY     83 

"  Mr.  Pretty-Heart,"  said  Vitalis  severely,  "  you 
are  a  glutton  and  a  thief;  go  over  there  into  the 
corner  and  turn  your  face  to  the  wall,  and  you, 
Zerbino,  keep  guard:  if  he  moves  give  him  a  good 
slap.  As  to  you,  Mr.  Capi,  you  are  a  good  dog, 
give  me  your  paw.  I'd  like  to  shake  hands  with 
you." 

The  monkey,  uttering  little  stifled  cries,  obeyed 
and  went  into  the  corner,  and  the  dog,  proud  and 
happy,  held  out  his  paw  to  his  master. 

"  Now,"  continued  Vitalis,  "  back  to  business. 
Fll  give  you  thirty  francs  for  him  then." 

"  No,  forty." 

A  discussion  commenced,  but  Vitalis  soon 
•topped  it  by  saying: 

"  This  doesn't  interest  the  child,  let  him  go  out- 
side and  play." 

At  the  same  time  he  made  a  sign  to  Barberin. 

"  Yes,  go  out  into  the  yard  at  the  back,  but  don't 
move  or  you'll  have  me  to  reckon  with." 

I  could  not  but  obey.  I  went  into  the  yard,  but 
I  had  no  heart  to  play.  I  sat  down  on  a  big  stone 
and  waited.  They  were  deciding  what  was  to  be- 
come of  me.  What  would  it  be?  They  talked  for 
a  long  time.  I  sat  waiting,  and  it  was  an  hour 
later  when  Barberin  came  out  into  the  yard.  He 
was  alone.  Had  he  come  to  fetch  me  to  hand  me 
over  to  Vitalis? 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  back  home." 

Home!  Then  I  was  not  to  leave  Mother  Bar- 
berin? 


NOBODY'S  BOY 


I  wanted  to  ask  questions,  but  I  was  afraid,  be- 
cause he  seemed  in  a  very  bad  temper.  We  walked 
all  the  way  home  in  silence.  But  just  before  we 
arrived  home  Barberin,  who  was  walking  ahead, 
stopped. 

"  You  know,"  he  said,  taking  me  roughly  by  the 
ear,  "  if  you  say  one  single  word  of  what  you  have 
heard  to-day,  you  shall  smart  for  it.  Under- 
stand? " 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  MATERNAL  HOUSE 

"Til  TELL,"  asked  Mother  Barberin,  when  we 
V  V  entered,  "  what  did  the  mayor  say?  " 

"  We  didn't  see  him." 

"  How !    You  didn't  see  him?  " 

"  No,  I  met  some  friends  at  the  Notre-Dame  caf6 
and  when  we  came  out  it  was  too  late.  So  we'll 
go  back  to-morrow." 

So  Barberin  had  given  up  the  idea  of  driving  a 
bargain  with  the  man  with  the  dogs. 

On  the  way  home  I  wondered  if  this  was  not 
some  trick  of  his,  returning  to  the  house,  but  his 
last  words  drove  all  my  doubts  away.  As  we  had 
to  go  back  to  the  village  the  next  day  to  see  the 
mayor,  it  was  certain  that  Barberin  had  not  ac- 
cepted Vitalis'  terms. 

But  in  spite  of  his  threats  I  would  have  spoken 
of  my  fears  to  Mother  Barberin  if  I  could  have 
found  myself  alone  for  one  moment  with  her,  but 
all  the  evening  Barberin  did  not  leave  the  house, 
and  I  went  to  bed  without  getting  the  opportunity. 
I  went  to  sleep  thinking  that  I  would  tell  her  the 
next  day.  But  the  next  day  when  I  got  up,  I  did 
not  see  her.  As  I  was  running  all  round  the  house 
looking  for  her,  Barberin  saw  me  and  asked  me 

what  I  wanted. 

3* 


36 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  Mamma/' 

"  She  has  gone  to  the  village  and  won't  be  back 
till  this  afternoon." 

She  had  not  told  me  the  night  before  that  she 
was  going  to  the  village,  and  without  knowing  why, 
I  began  to  feel  anxious.  Why  didn't  she  wait  for 
us,  if  we  were  going  in  the  afternoon?  Would  she 
be  back  before  we  started?  Without  knowing  quite 
why,  I  began  to  feel  very  frightened,  and  Barberin 
looked  at  me  in  a  way  that  did  not  tend  to  reassure 
me.  To  escape  from  his  look  I  ran  into  the  gar- 
den. 

Our  garden  meant  a  great  deal  to  us.  In  it  we 
grew  almost  all  that  we  ate  —  potatoes,  cabbages, 
carrots,  turnips.  There  was  no  ground  wasted, 
yet  Mother  Barberin  had  given  me  a  little  patch  all 
to  myself,  in  which  I  had  planted  ferns  and  herbs 
that  I  had  pulled  up  in  the  lanes  while  I  was  mind- 
ing the  cow.  I  had  planted  everything  pell  mell, 
one  beside  the  other,  in  my  bit  of  garden:  it  was 
not  beautiful,  but  I  loved  it.  It  was  mine.  I  ar- 
ranged it  as  I  wished,  just  as  I  felt  at  the  time,  and 
when  I  spoke  of  it,  which  happened  twenty  times 
a  day,  it  was  "My  garden." 

Already  the  jonquils  were  in  bud  and  the  lilac 
was  beginning  to  shoot,  and  the  wall  flowers  would 
soon  be  out.  How  would  they  bloom?  I  won- 
dered, and  that  was  why  I  came  to  see  them  every 
day.  But  there  was  another  part  of  my  garden 
that  I  studied  with  great  anxiety.  I  had  planted 
a  vegetable  that  some  one  had  given  to  me  and 


THE  MATERNAL  HOUSE         87 

which  was  almost  unknown  in  our  village;  it  was 
Jerusalem  artichokes.  I  was  told  they  would  be 
delicious,  better  than  potatoes,  for  they  had  the 
taste  of  French  artichokes,  potatoes,  and  turnips 
combined.  Having  been  told  this,  I  intended  them 
to  be  a  surprise  for  Mother  Barberin.  I  had  not 
breathed  a  word  about  this  present  I  had  for  her. 
I  planted  them  in  my  own  bit  of  garden.  When 
they  began  to  shoot  I  would  let  her  think  that  they 
were  flowers,  then  one  fine  day  when  they  were 
ripe,  while  she  was  out,  I  would  pull  them  up  and 
cook  them  myself.  How?  I  was  not  quite  sure, 
but  I  did  not  worry  over  such  a  small  detail ;  then 
when  she  returned  to  supper  I  would  serve  her  a 
dish  of  Jerusalem  artichokes!  It  would  be  some- 
thing fresh  to  replace  those  everlasting  potatoes, 
and  Mother  Barberin  would  not  suffer  too  much 
from  the  sale  of  poor  Rousette.  And  the  inventor 
of  this  new  dish  of  vegetables  was  I,  Remi,  I  was 
the  one !  So  I  was  of  some  use  in  the  house. 

With  such  a  plan  in  my  head  I  had  to  bestow 
careful  attention  on  my  Jerusalem  artichokes. 
Every  day  I  looked  at  the  spot  where  I  had  planted 
them,  it  seemed  to  me  that  they  would  never  grow. 
I  was  kneeling  on  both  knees  on  the  ground,  sup- 
ported on  my  hands,  with  my  nose  almost  touching 
the  earth  where  the  artichokes  were  sown,  when  I 
heard  Barberin  calling  me  impatiently.  I  hur- 
ried back  to  the  house.  Imagine  my  surprise  when 
I  saw,  standing  before  the  fireplace,  Vitalis  and 
his  dogs. 


38 NOBODY'S  BOY 

I  knew  at  once  what  Barberin  wanted  of  me. 
Vitalis  had  come  to  fetch  me  and  it  was  so  that 
Mother  Barberin  should  not  stop  me  from  going 
that  Barberin  had  sent  her  to  the  village.  Know- 
ing full  well  that  I  could  expect  nothing  from  Bar- 
berin, I  ran  up  to  Vitalis. 

"  Oh,  don't  take  me  away.  Please,  sir,  don't 
take  me  away."  I  began  to  sob. 

"  Now,  little  chap,"  he  said,  kindly  enough,  "  you 
won't  be  unhappy  with  me.  I  don't  whip  children, 
and  you'll  have  the  dogs  for  company.  Why 
should  you  be  sorry  to  go  with  me?  " 

"  Mother  Barberin !  .  .  ." 

"Anyhow,  you're  not  going  to  stay  here,"  said 
Barberin  roughly,  taking  me  by  the  ear.  "  Go 
with  this  gentleman  or  go  to  the  workhouse. 
Choose!" 

"  No,  no.     Mamma !  Mamma !  " 

"  So,  you're  going  to  make  me  mad,  eh ! "  cried 
Barberin.  "  I'll  beat  you  good  and  hard  and  chase 
you  out  of  the  house." 

"  The  child  is  sorry  to  leave  his  mamma,  don't 
beat  him  for  that.  He's  got  feelings,  that's  a  good 
sign." 

"  If  you  pity  him  he'll  cry  all  the  more." 

"Well,  now  to  business." 

Saying  that,  Vitalis  laid  eight  five  franc  pieces 
on  the  table,  which  Barberin  with  a  sweep  of  his 
hand  cleared  up  and  thrust  into  his  pocket. 

"  Where's  his  bundle?  "  asked  Vitalis. 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Barberin,  handing  him  a  blue 


39 


cotton  handkerchief  tied  up  at  the  four  corners. 
"  There  are  two  shirts  and  a  pair  of  cotton  pants." 

"  That  was  not  what  was  agreed ;  you  said  you'd 
give  some  clothes.  These  are  only  rags." 

"  He  ain't  got  no  more." 

"  If  I  ask  the  boy  I  know  he'll  say  that's  not  true. 
But  I  haven't  the  time  to  argue  the  matter.  We 
must  be  off.  Come  on,  my  little  fellow.  What's 
your  name?" 

"  Remi." 

"Well,  then,  Remi,  take  your  bundle  and  walk 
along  beside  Capi." 

I  held  out  both  my  hands  to  him,  then  to  Bar- 
berin.  But  both  men  turned  away  their  heads. 
Then  Vitalis  took  me  by  the  wrist.  I  had  to  go. 

Ah,  our  poor  little  house !  It  seemed  to  me  when 
I  passed  over  the  threshold  that  I  left  a  bit  of  my 
body  there.  With  my  eyes  full  of  tears  I  looked 
around,  but  there  was  no  one  near  to  help  me.  No 
one  on  the  road,  and  no  one  in  the  field  close  by. 
I  began  to  call : 

"  Mamma  .  .  .  Mother  Barberin !  " 

But  no  one  replied  to  my  call,  and  my  voice 
trailed  off  into  a  sob.  I  had  to  follow  Vitalis,  who 
had  not  let  go  of  my  wrist. 

"  Good-by  and  good  luck,"  cried  Barberin.  Then 
he  entered  the  house.  It  was  over. 

"  Come,  Remi,  hurry  along,  my  child,"  said  Vi- 
talis. He  took  hold  of  my  arm  and  I  walked  side 
by  side  with  him.  Fortunately  he  did  not  walk 
fast.  I  think  he  suited  his  step  to  mine. 


40 NOBODY'S  BOY: 

We  were  walking  up  hill.  As  I  turned  I  could 
still  see  Mother  Barberin's  house,  but  it  was  get- 
ting smaller  and  smaller.  Many  a  time  I  had 
walked  this  road  and  I  knew  that  for  a  little  while 
longer  I  should  still  see  the  house,  then  when  we 
turned  the  bend,  I  should  see  it  no  more.  Before 
me  the  unknown,  behind  me  was  the  house,  where 
until  that  day  I  had  lived  such  a  happy  life.  Per- 
haps I  should  never  see  it  again !  Fortunately  the 
hill  was  long,  but  at  last  we  reached  the  top.  Vi- 
talis  had  not  let  go  his  hold. 

"Will  you  let  me  rest  a  bit?  "  I  asked. 

"  Surely,  my  boy,"  he  replied. 

He  let  go  of  me,  but  I  saw  him  make  a  sign  to 
Capi  and  the  dog  understood.  He  came  close  to 
me.  I  knew  that  Capi  would  grab  me  by  the  leg  if 
I  attempted  to  escape.  I  went  up  a  high  grassy 
mound  and  sat  down,  the  dog  beside  me.  With 
tear-dimmed  eyes  I  looked  about  for  Mother  Bar- 
berin's  cottage.  Below  was  the  valley  and  the 
wood,  and  away  in  the  distance  stood  the  little 
house  I  had  left.  Little  puffs  of  yellow  smoke 
were  coming  out  of  the  chimney,  going  straight  up 
in  the  sky,  and  then  on  towards  us.  In  spite  of  the 
distance  and  the  height,  I  could  see  everything 
very  clearly.  On  the  rubbish  heap  I  could  see  our 
big  fat  hen  running  about,  but  she  did  not  look  as 
big  as  usual;  if  I  had  not  known  that  it  was  our 
hen,  I  should  have  taken  her  for  a  little  pigeon. 
At  the  side  of  the  house  I  could  see  the  twisted 
pear  tree  that  I  used  to  ride  as  a  horse.  In  the 


THE  MATERNAL  HOUSE         41 

stream  I  cbuld  just  make  out  the  drain  that  I  had 
had  so  much  trouble  in  digging,  so  that  it  would 
work  a  mill  made  by  my  own  hands;  the  wheel, 
alas !  had  never  turned,  despite  all  the  hours  I  had 
spent  upon  it.  I  could  see  my  garden.  Oh,  my 
dear  garden!  .  .  . 

Who  would  see  my  flowers  bloom?  and  my  Jeru- 
salem artichokes,  who  would  tend  them?  Bar- 
berin,  perhaps,  that  wicked  Barberin!  With  the 
next  step  my  garden  would  be  hidden  from  me. 
Suddenly  on  the  road  which  led  to  our  house  from 
the  village,  I  saw  a  white  sunbonnet.  Then  it  dis- 
appeared behind  some  trees,  then  it  came  in  view 
again.  The  distance  was  so  great  that  I  could  only 
see  a  white  top,  like  a  spring  butterfly.  It  was 
going  in  and  out  amongst  the  trees.  But  there  is 
a  time  when  the  heart  sees  better  and  farther  than 
the  sharpest  eyes.  I  knew  it  was  Mother  Barberin. 
It  was  she.  I  was  sure  of  it. 

"Well,"  asked  Vitalis,  "shall  we  go  on  now?" 

"  Oh,  sir,  no,  please  no." 

"  Then  it  is  true  what  they  say,  you  haven't  any 
legs,  tired  out  already.  That  doesn't  promise  very 
good  days  for  us." 

I  did  not  reply,  I  was  looking.  .  .  . 

It  was  Mother  Barberin.  It  was  her  bonnet. 
It  was  her  blue  skirt.  She  was  walking  quickly 
as  though  she  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  home.  When 
she  got  to  our  gate  she  pushed  it  open  and  went 
quickly  up  the  garden  path.  I  jumped  up  at  once 
and  stood  up  on  the  bank,  without  giving  a  thought 


42  NOBODY'S  BOY 

to  Capi,  who  sprang  towards  me.  Mother  Bar- 
berin  did  not  stay  long  in  the  house.  She  came 
out  and  began  running  to  and  fro,  in  the  yard,  with 
her  arms  stretched  out. 

She  was  looking  for  me.  I  leaned  forwards  and, 
at  the  top  of  my  voice,  I  cried : 

"  Mamma !  Mamma ! "  But  my  cry  could  not 
reach  her,  it  was  lost  in  the  air. 

"  What's  the  matter?  Have  you  gone  crazy?  " 
asked  Vitalis. 

I  did  not  reply;  my  eyes  were  still  fixed  on 
Mother  Barberin.  But  she  did  not  look  up,  for 
she  did  not  know  that  I  was  there  above  her.  She 
went  round  the  garden,  then  out  into  the  road, 
looking  up  and  down.  I  cried  louder,  but  like  my 
first  call  it  was  useless.  Then  Vitalis  understood, 
and  he  also  came  up  on  the  bank.  It  did  not  take 
him  long  to  see  the  figure  with  the  white  sunbonnet. 

"  Poor  little  chap,"  he  said  softly  to  himself. 

"  Oh,"  I  sobbed,  encouraged  by  his  words  of  pity, 
"  do  let  me  go  back."  But  he  took  me  by  the  wrist 
and  drew  me  down  and  onto  the  road. 

"  As  you  are  now  rested,"  he  said,  "  we'll  move 
on." 

I  tried  to  free  myself,  but  he  held  me  firmly. 

"  Capi !  Zerbino,"  he  said,  looking  at  the  dogs. 
The  two  dogs  came  close  to  me;  Capi  behind,  Zer- 
bino in  front.  After  taking  a  few  steps  I  turned 
round.  We  had  passed  the  bend  of  the  hill  and 
I  could  no  longer  see  the  valley  nor  our  house. 


CHAPTER  V 

EN  EOUTB 

BECAUSE  a  man  pays  forty  francs  for  a  child 
that  is  not  to  say  that  he  is  a  monster,  and 
that  he  intends  to  eat  the  child.  Vitalis  had  no 
desire  to  eat  me  and  although  he  bought  children 
he  was  not  a  bad  man.  I  soon  had  proof  of  this. 
We  had  been  walking  in  silence  for  some  time.  I 
heaved  a  sigh. 

"  I  know  just  how  you  feel,"  said  Vitalis ;  "  cry 
all  you  want.  But  try  and  see  that  this  is  for  your 
own  good.  Those  people  are  not  your  parents; 
the  wife  has  been  good  to  you  and  I  know  that  you 
love  her,  that  is  why  you  feel  so  badly.  But  she 
could  not  keep  you  if  the  husband  did  not  want 
you.  And  he  may  not  be  such  a  bad  chap  after 
all;  he  is  ill  and  can't  do  any  more  work.  He'll 
find  it  hard  to  get  along  .  .  ." 

Yes,  what  he  said  was  true,  but  JL  JiacUonly  one 
thought  in  my  mind,  perhaps  I  should  never  again 
see  the  one  I  loved  most  in  the  world. 

"  You  won't  be  unhappy  with  me,"  he  continued; 
"  it  is  better  than  being  sent  to  the  Home.  And  let 
me  tell  you,  you  must  not  try  to  run  away,  because 
if  you  do  Capi  and  Zerbino  would  soon  catch  you." 

Run  away  —  I  no  longer  thought  of  doing  so. 
Where  should  I  go?  This  tall  old  man  perhaps 

43 


44 NOBODY'S  BOY 

would  be  a  kind  master  after  all.  I  had  never 
walked  so  far  at  a  stretch.  All  around  us  were 
barren  lands  and  hills,  not  beautiful  like  I  had 
thought  the  world  would  be  outside  of  my  village. 

Vitalis  walked  with  big  regular  strides,  carry- 
ing Pretty-Heart  on  his  shoulder,  or  in  his  bag, 
and  the  dogs  trotted  close  to  us.  From  time  to 
time  Vitalis  said  a  word  of  friendship  to  them, 
sometimes  in  French,  sometimes  in  a  language  that 
I  did  not  understand.  Neither  he  nor  the  ani- 
mals seemed  to  get  tired.  But  I  ...  I  was  ex- 
hausted. I  dragged  my  limbs  along  and  it  was  as 
much  as  I  could  do  to  keep  up  with  my  new  mas- 
ter. Yet  I  did  not  like  to  ask  him  to  let  me  stop. 

"  It's  those  wooden  shoes  that  tire  you,"  he  said, 
looking  down  at  me.  "  When  we  get  to  Ussel,  I'll 
buy  you  some  shoes." 

These  words  gave  me  courage.  I  had  always 
longed  for  a  pair  of  shoes.  The  mayor's  son  and 
the  inn-keeper's  son  wore  shoes,  so  that  on  Sunday 
when  they  came  to  church  they  seemed  to  slide 
down  the  stone  aisles,  while  we  other  country  boys 
in  our  clogs  made  a  deafening  noise. 

"  Is  Ussel  far?  " 

"Ah,  that  comes  from  your  heart,"  said  Vitalis, 
laughing.  "  So  you  want  to  have  a  pair  of  shoes, 
do  you?  Well,  I'll  promise  you  them  and  with 
big  nails,  too.  And  I'll  buy  you  some  velvet  pants, 
and  a  vest  and  a  hat.  That'll  make  you  dry  your 
tears,  I  hope,  and  give  you  legs  to  do  the  next  six 
miles." 


EN  ROUTE  45 


Shoes  with  nails!  I  was  overcome  with  pride. 
It  was  grand  enough  to  have  shoes,  but  shoes  with 
nails!  I  forgot  my  grief.  Shoes  with  nails! 
Velvet  pants!  a  vest!  a  hat!  Oh,  if  Mother  Bar- 
berin  could  see  me,  how  happy  she  would  be,  how 
proud  of  me!  But  in  spite  of  the  promise  that  I 
should  have  shoes  and  velvet  pants  at  the  end  of 
the  six  miles,  it  seemed  impossible  that  I  could 
cover  the  distance. 

The  sky,  which  had  been  blue  when  we  started, 
was  now  filled  with  gray  clouds  and  soon  a  fine 
rain  commenced  to  fall.  Vitalis  was  covered  well 
enough  with  his  sheepskin  and  he  was  able  to  shel- 
ter Pretty-Heart,  who,  at  the  first  drop  of  rain, 
had  promptly  retired  into  his  hiding  place.  But 
the  dogs  and  I  had  nothing  to  cover  us,  and  soon 
we  were  drenched  to  the  skin.  The  dogs  from 
time  to  time  could  shake  themselves,  but  I  was 
unable  to  employ  this  natural  means,  and  I  had  to 
tramp  along  under  my  water-soaked,  heavy  gar- 
ments, which  chilled  me. 

"Do  you  catch  cold  easily?"  asked  my  new 
master. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  don't  remember  ever  having 
a  cold." 

"  That's  good.  So  there  is  something  in  you. 
But  I  don't  want  to  have  it  worse  for  you  than  we 
are  obliged.  There  is  a  village  a  little  farther  on 
and  we'll  sleep  there." 

There  was  no  inn  in  this  village  and  no  one 
wanted  to  take  into  their  homes  an  old  beggar  who 


46 NOBODY'S  BOY 

dragged  along  with  him  a  child  and  three  dogs, 
soaked  to  the  skin. 

"  No  lodgings  here,"  they  said. 

And  they  shut  the  door  in  our  faces.  We  went 
from  one  house  to  another,  but  all  refused  to  admit 
us.  Must  we  tramp  those  four  miles  on  to  Ussel 
without  resting  a  bit?  The  night  had  fallen  and 
the  rain  had  chilled  us  through  and  through.  Oh, 
for  Mother  Barberin's  house! 

Finally  a  peasant,  more  charitable  than  his 
neighbors,  agreed  to  let  us  go  into  his  barn.  But 
he  made  the  condition  that  we  could  sleep  there, 
but  must  have  no  light. 

"  Give  me  your  matches,"  he  said  to  Vitalis. 
"  I'll  give  you  them  back  to-morrow,  when  you  go." 

At  least  we  had  a  roof  to  cover  us  from  the 
storm. 

In  the  sack  which  Vitalis  had  slung  over  his 
back  he  took  out  a  hunch  of  bread  and  broke  it  into 
four  pieces.  Then  I  saw  for  the  first  time  how 
he  maintained  obedience  and  discipline  in  his  com- 
pany. Whilst  we  had  gone  from  door  to  door 
seeking  shelter,  Zerbino  had  gone  into  a  house  and 
he  had  run  out  again  almost  at  once,  carrying  in 
his  jaws  a  crust.  Vitalis  had  only  said: 

"Alright,  Zerbino  .  .  .  to-night." 

I  had  thought  no  more  of  this  theft,  when  I  saw 
Vitalis  cut  the  roll;  Zerbino  looked  very  dejected. 
Vitalis  and  I  were  sitting  on  a  box  with  Pretty- 
Heart  between  us.  The  three  dogs  stood  in  a  row 
before  us,  Capi  and  Dulcie  with  their  eyes  fixed  on 


EN  ROUTE  47 


their  master.     Zerbino  stood  with  drooping  ears 
and  tail  between  his  legs. 

"  The  thief  must  leave  the  ranks  and  go  into  a 
corner,"  said  Vitalis  in  a  tone  of  command ;  "  he'll 
go  to  sleep  without  his  supper." 

Zerbino  left  his  place,  and  in  a  zigzag  went  over 
to  the  corner  that  Vitalis  indicated  with  his  finger. 
He  crouched  down  under  a  heap  of  hay  out  of 
sight,  but  we  heard  him  breathe  plaintively,  with 
a  little  whine. 

Vitalis  then  handed  me  a  piece  of  bread,  and 
while  eating  his  own  he  broke  little  pieces  for 
Pretty-Heart,  Capi  and  Dulcie.  How  I  longed  for 
Mother  Barberin's  soup  .  .  .  even  without  butter, 
and  the  warm  fire,  and  my  little  bed  with  the 
coverlets  that  I  pulled  right  up  to  my  nose.  Com- 
pletely fagged  out,  I  sat  there,  my  feet  raw  by  the 
rubbing  of  my  clogs.  I  trembled  with  cold  in 
my  wet  clothing.  It  was  night  now,  but  I  did  not 
think  of  going  to  sleep. 

"  Your  teeth  are  chattering,"  said  Vitalis ;  "  are 
you  cold?" 

"  A  little." 

I  heard  him  open  his  bag. 

"  I  haven't  got  much  of  a  wardrobe,"  he  said, 
"  but  here's  a  dry  shirt  and  a  vest  you  can  put 
on.  Then  get  underneath  the  hay  and  you'll  soon 
get  warm  and  go  to  sleep." 

But  I  did  not  get  warm  as  quick  as  Vitalis 
thought;  for  a  long  time  I  turned  and  turned  on 
my  bed  of  straw,  too  unhappy  to  sleep.  Would 


48 NOBODY'S  BOY 

all  my  days  now  be  like  this,  walking  in  the  pour- 
ing rain ;  sleeping  in  a  loft,  shaking  with  cold,  and 
only  a  piece  of  dry  bread  for  supper?  No  one 
to  love  me;  no  one  to  cuddle  me;  no  Mother  Bar- 
berin! 

My  heart  was  very  sad.  The  tears  rolled  down 
my  cheeks,  then  I  felt  a  warm  breath  pass  over  my 
face.  I  stretched  out  my  hand  and  my  finger 
touched  Capi's  woolly  coat.  He  had  come  softly 
to  me,  stepping  cautiously  on  the  straw,  and  he 
smelt  me:  he  sniffed  gently,  his  breath  ran  over 
my  cheek  and  in  my  hair.  What  did  he  want? 
Presently  he  laid  down  on  the  straw,  quite  close 
to  me,  and  very  gently  he  commenced  to  lick  my 
hand.  Touched  by  this  caress,  I  sat  up  on  my 
straw  bed  and  throwing  my  arms  round  his  neck 
kissed  his  cold  nose.  He  gave  a  little  stifled  cry, 
and  then  quickly  put  his  paw  in  my  hand  and  re- 
mained quite  still.  I  forgot  my  fatigue  and  my 
sorrows.  I  was  no  longer  alone.  I  had  a  friend. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MY  DtiBUT 

WE  started  early  the  next  morning.  The  sky 
was  blue  and  a  light  wind  had  come  up  in 
the  night  and  dried  all  the  mud.  The  birds  were 
singing  blithely  in  the  trees  and  the  dogs  scam- 
pered around  us.  Now  and  again  Capi  stood  up 
on  his  hind  paws  and  barked  into  my  face,  two  or 
three  times.  I  knew  what  he  meant.  He  was  my 
friend.  He  was  intelligent,  and  he  understood 
everything,  and  he  knew  how  to  make  you  under- 
stand. In  his  tail  only  was  more  wit  and  elo- 
quence than  in  the  tongue  or  in  the  eyes  of  many 
people. 

Although  I  had  never  left  my  village  and  was 
most  curious  to  see  a  town,  what  I  most  wanted  to 
see  in  that  town  was  a  boot  shop.  Where  was  the 
welcome  shop  where  I  should  find  the  shoes  with 
nails  that  Vitalis  had  promised  me?  I  glanced 
about  in  every  direction  as  we  passed  down  the  old 
streets  of  Ussel.  Suddenly  my  master  turned  into 
a  shop  behind  the  market  Hanging  outside  the 
front  were  some  old  guns,  a  coat  trimmed  with  gold 
braid,  several  lamps,  and  some  rusty  keys.  We 
went  down  three  steps  and  found  ourselves  in  a 
large  room  where  the  sun  could  never  have  entered 

40 


50 NOBODY'S  BOY 

since  the  roof  had  been  put  on  the  house.  How 
could  such  beautiful  things  as  nailed  shoes  be  sold 
in  such  a  terrible  place?  Yet  Vitalis  knew,  and 
soon  I  had  the  pleasure  of  being  shod  in  nailed 
shoes  which  were  ten  times  as  heavy  as  my  clogs. 
My  master's  generosity  did  .not  stop  there.  He 
bought  me  a  blue  velvet  coat,  a  pair  of  trousers, 
and  a  felt  hat. 

Velvet  for  me  who  had  never  worn  anything  but 
cotton!  This  was  surely  the  best  man  in  the 
world,  and  the  most  generous.  It  is  true  that  the 
velvet  was  creased,  and  that  the  woolen  trousers 
were  well  worn,  and  it  was  difficult  to  guess  what 
had  been  the  original  color  of  the  felt  hat,  it  had 
been  so  soaked  with  rain;  but  dazzled  by  so  much 
finery  I  was  unconscious  of  the  imperfections 
which  were  hidden  under  their  aspect. 

When  we  got  back  to  the  inn,  to  my  sorrow  and 
astonishment,  Vitalis  took  a  pair  of  scissors  and 
cut  the  two  legs  of  my  trousers  to  the  height  of  the 
knees,  before  he  would  let  me  get  into  them.  I 
looked  at  him  with  round  eyes. 

"  That's  because  I  don't  want  you  to  look  like 
everybody  else,"  he  explained.  "  When  in  France 
I'll  dress  you  like  an  Italian ;  when  in  Italy,  like  a 
French  boy." 

I  was  still  more  amazed. 

"We  are  artistes,  are  we  not?  WTell,  we  must 
not  dress  like  the  ordinary  folk.  If  we  went  about 
dressed  like  the  country  people,  do  you  think  any- 
body would  look  at  us?  Should  we  get  a  crowd 


MY  D£BUT si 

around  us  when  we  stop?  No!  Appearances 
count  for  a  great  deal  in  life." 

I  was  a  French  boy  in  the  morning,  and  by  night 
I  had  become  an  Italian.  My  trousers  reached  my 
knees.  Vitalis  interlaced  red  cords  all  down  my 
stockings  and  twisted  some  red  ribbon  all  over 
my  felt  hat,  and  then  decorated  it  with  a  bunch  of 
woolen  flowers. 

I  don't  know  what  others  thought  of  me,  but  to 
be  frank  I  must  admit  that  I  thought  I  looked 
superb;  and  Capi  was  of  the  same  opinion,  for  he 
stared  at  me  for  a  long  time,  then  held  out  his 
paw  with  a  satisfied  air.  I  was  glad  to  have 
Capi's  approval,  which  was  all  the  more  agreeable, 
because,  during  the  time  I  had  been  dressing, 
Pretty-Heart  had  seated  himself  opposite  to  me, 
and  with  exaggerated  airs  had  imitated  every 
movement  I  had  made,  and  when  I  was  finished  put 
his  hands  on  his  hips,  threw  back  his  head,  and 
laughed  mockingly. 

It  is  a  scientific  question  as  to  whether  monkeys 
laugh  or  not.  I  lived  on  familiar  terms  with 
Pretty-Heart  for  a  long  time,  and  I  know  that  he 
certainly  did  laugh  and  often  in  a  way  that  was 
most  humiliating  to  me.  Of  course,  he  did  not 
laugh  like  a  man,  but  when  something  amused  him, 
he  would  draw  back  the  corners  of  his  mouth, 
screw  up  his  eyes,  and  work  his  jaws  rapidly,  while 
his  black  eyes  seemed  to  dart  flames. 

"  Now  you're  ready,"  said  Vitalis,  as  I  placed 
my  hat  on  my  head,  "  and  we'll  get  to  work,  because 


52 NOBODY'S  BOY 

to-morrow  is  market  day  and  we  must  give  a  per- 
formance. You  must  play  in  a  comedy  with  the 
two  dogs  and  Pretty-Heart." 

"  But  I  don't  know  how  to  play  a  comedy/'  I 
cried,  scared. 

"  That  is  why  I  am  going  to  teach  you.  You 
can't  know  unless  you  learn.  These  animals  have 
studied  hard  to  learn  their  part.  It  has  been  hard 
work  for  them,  but  now  see  how  clever  they  are. 
The  piece  we  are  going  to  play  is  called,  '  Mr. 
Pretty-Heart's  Servant,  or  The  Fool  is  not  Always 
the  One  You  Would  Think.'  Now  this  is  it :  Mr. 
Pretty-Heart's  servant,  whose  name  is  Capi,  is 
about  to  leave  him  because  he  is  getting  old.  And 
Capi  has  promised  his  master  that  before  he  leaves 
he  will  get  him  another  servant.  Now  this  suc- 
cessor is  not  to  be  a  dog,  it  is  to  be  a  boy,  a  country 
boy  named  Remi." 

"Oh  .  .  ." 

"You  have  just  come  from  the  country  to  take 
a  position  with  Mr.  Pretty-Heart." 

"  Monkeys  don't  have  servants." 

"  In  plays  they  have.  Well,  you've  come 
straight  from  your  village  and  your  ne^w  master 
thinks  that  you're  a  fool." 

«Oh,  I  don't  like  that!" 

"What  does  that  matter  if  it  makes  the  people 
laugh?  Well,  you  have  come  to  this  gentleman 
to  be  his  servant  and  you  are  told  to  set  the  table. 
Here  is  one  like  we  shall  use  in  the  play;  go  and 
set  it." 


MY  D^BUT 53 

On  this  table  there  were  plates,  a  glass,  a  knife, 
a  fork,  and  a  white  tablecloth.  How  could  I  ar- 
range all  those  things?  As  I  pondered  over  this 
question,  leaning  forward  with  hands  stretched 
out  and  mouth  open,  not  knowing  where  to  begin, 
my  master  clapped  his  hands  and  laughed  heartily. 

"  Bravo !  "  he  cried,  "  bravo !  that's  perfect.  The 
boy  I  had  before  put  on  a  sly  expression  as  much 
as  to  say,  *  See  what  a  fool  I  can  make  of  myself ' ; 
you  are  natural;  that  is  splendid." 

"  But  I  don't  know  what  I  have  to  do." 

"  That's  why  you  are  so  good !  After  you  do 
know,  you  will  have  to  pretend  just  what  you  are 
feeling  now.  If  you  can  get  that  same  expression 
and  stand  just  like  you  are  standing  now,  you'll  be 
a  great  success.  To  play  this  part  to  perfection 
you  have  only  to  act  and  look  as  you  do  at  this 
moment." 

"  Mr.  Pretty-Heart's  Servant "  was  not  a  great 
play.  The  performance  lasted  not  more  than 
twenty  minutes.  Vital  is  made  us  do  it  over  and 
over  again,  the  dogs  and  I. 

I  was  surprised  to  see  our  master  so  patient.  I 
had  seen  the  animals  in  my  village  treated  with 
oaths  and  blows  when  they  could  not  learn.  Al- 
though the  lesson  lasted  a  long  time,  not  once  did 
he  get  angry,  not  once  did  he  swear. 

"  Now  do  that  over  again,"  he  said  severely, 
when  a  mistake  had  been  made.  "  That  is  bad, 
Capi.  I'll  scold  you,  Pretty-Heart,  if  you  don't 
pay  attention." 


54 NOBODY'S  BOY 

And  that  was  all,  but  yet  it  was  enough. 

"  Take  the  dogs  for  an  example,"  he  said,  while 
teaching  me ;  "  compare  them  with  Pretty-Heart. 
Pretty-Heart  has,  perhaps,  vivacity  and  intelli- 
gence, but  he  has  no  patience.  He  learns  easily 
what  he  is  taught,  but  he  forgets  it  at  once;  be- 
sides he  never  does  what  he  is  told  willingly.  He 
likes  to  do  just  the  contrary.  That  is  his  nature, 
and  that  is  why  I  do  not  get  angry  with  him ;  mon- 
keys have  not  the  same  conscience  that  a  dog  has; 
they  don't  understand  the  meaning  of  the  word 
'duty,'  and  that  is  why  they  are  inferior  to  the 
dog.  Do  you  understand  that?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  You  are  intelligent  and  attentive,  ^e  obe- 
.djent,  do  your  best  in  what  you  have  to  do.  jRe: 
member  that  all  through  life." 

Talking  to  him  so,  I  summoned  up  courage  to 
ask  him  about  what  had  so  astonished  me  during 
the  rehearsal:  how  could  he  be  so  wonderfully  pa- 
tient with  the  dogs,  the  monkey,  and  myself? 

He  smiled. 

"  One  can  see  that  you  have  lived  only  with 
peasants  who  are  rough  with  animals,  and  think 
that  they  can  only  be  made  to  obey  by  having  a 
stick  held  over  their  heads.  A  great  mistake. 
One  gains  very  little  by  being  cruel,  but  one  can 
obtain  a  lot,  if  not  all,  by  gentleness.  It  is  be- 
cause I  am  never  unkind  to  my  animals  that  they 
are  what  they  are.  If  I  had  beaten  them  they 


MY  D£BUT  _  ^ 

^/ 

' 


would  be  frightened  creatures;  fear_gacalyzefl  - 
intelligence.  Besides,  if  I  gave  way  to  temper  I 
should  not  be  what  I  am  ;  I  could  not  have  acquired 
this  patience  which  has  won  their  confidence. 
That  s]jpjvs_tha^  who  instructs  others,  instructs 
himself.  As  I  have  given  lessons  to  my  animals, 
so  I  have  received  lessons  from  them.  I  have  de- 
veloped  their  intelligence;  they  have  formed  my 
character." 

I  laughed.     This  seemed  strange  to  me. 

"  You  find  that  odd,"  he  continued  ;  "  odd  that  a 
dog  could  give  a  lesson  to  a  man,  yet  it  is  true. 
The  master  is  obliged  to  watch  over  himself  when 
he  undertakes  to  teach  a  dog.  The  dog  takes  after 
the  master.  Show  me  your  dog  and  I'll  tell  you 
what  you  are.  The  criminal  has  a  dog  who  is  a 
rogue.  The  burglar's  dog  is  a  thief;  the  country 
yokel  has  a  stupid,  unintelligent  dog.  A  kind, 
thoughtful  man  has  a  good  dog." 

I  was  very  nervous  at  the  thought  of  appearing 
before  the  public  the  next  day.  The  dogs  and  the 
monkey  had  the  advantage  over  me,  they  had 
played  before,  hundreds  of  times.  What  would 
Vitalis  say  if  I  did  not  play  my  part  well?  What 
would  the  audience  say?  I  was  so  worried  that, 
when  at  last  I  dropped  off  to  sleep,  I  could  see  in 
my  dreams  a  crowd  of  people  holding  their  sides 
with  laughter  because  I  was  such  a  fool. 

I  was  even  more  nervous  the  next  day,  when  we 
marched  off  in  a  procession  to  the  market  place, 


56 NOBODY'S  BOY 

where  we  were  to  give  our  performance.  Vitalis 
led  the  way.  Holding  his  head  high  and  with  chest 
thrown  out,  he  kept  time  with  his  arms  and  feet 
while  gayly  playing  his  fife.  Behind  him  came 
Capi,  carrying  Pretty-Heart  on  his  back,  wearing 
the  uniform  of  an  English  general,  a  red  coat  and 
trousers  trimmed  with  gold  braid  and  helmet 
topped  with  a  plume.  Zerbino  and  Dulcie  came 
next,  at  a  respectful  distance.  I  brought  up  the 
rear.  Our  procession  took  up  some  length  as  we 
had  to  walk  a  certain  space  apart.  The  piercing 
notes  of  the  fife  brought  the  people  running  from 
their  houses.  Scores  of  children  ran  behind  us, 
and  by  the  time  we  had  reached  the  square,  there 
was  a  great  crowd.  Our  theater  was  quickly 
arranged.  A  rope  was  fastened  to  four  trees 
and  in  the  middle  of  this  square  we  took  our 
places. 

The  first  numbers  on  the  program  consisted  of 
various  tricks  performed  by  the  dogs.  I  had  not 
the  slightest  notion  what  they  did.  I  was  so 
nervous  and  taken  up  in  repeating  my  own  part. 
All  that  I  remember  was  that  Vitalis  put  aside  his 
fife  and  took  his  violin  and  played  accompaniments 
to  the  dogs'  maneuvers;  sometimes  it  was  dance 
music,  sometimes  sentimental  airs. 

The  tricks  over,  Capi  took  a  metal  cup  between 
his  teeth  and  began  to  go  the  round  of  the  "  dis- 
tinguished audience."  When  a  spectator  failed  to 
drop  a  coin  in,  he  put  his  two  fore  paws  upon  the 
reluctant  giver's  pocket,  barked  three  times,  then 


MY  D^BUT 57 

tapped  the  pocket  with  his  paw.  At  this  every 
one  laughed  and  shouted  with  delight. 

"  If  that  ain't  a  cunning  spaniel !  He  knows 
who's  got  money  and  who  hasn't ! " 

"  Say,  out  with  it !  " 

"  He'll  give  something !  " 

"Not  he!" 

"And  his  uncle  left  him  a  legacy!  The  stingy 
cuss ! " 

And,  finally,  a  penny  was  dug  out  of  a  deep 
pocket  and  thrown  into  the  cup.  During  this  time, 
Vitalis,  without  saying  a  word,  but  with  his  eyes 
following  Capi,  gayly  played  his  violin.  Soon 
Capi  returned  to  his  master,  proudly  carrying  the 
full  cup. 

Now  for  the  comedy. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Vitalis,  gesticu- 
lating with  his  bow  in  one  hand  and  his  violin  in 
the  other,  "  we  are  going  to  give  a  delightful  com- 
edy, called  '  Mr.  Pretty-Heart's  Servant,  or  the 
Fool  is  not  Always  the  One  You  Would  Think.' 
A  man  of  my  standing  does  not  lower  himself  by 
praising^ his  plays  and  actors  in  advance.  All  I 
have  to  say  is  look,  listen,  and  be  ready  to  ap- 
plaud." 

What  Vitalis  called  a  delightful  comedy  was 
really  a  pantomime;  naturally  it  had  to  be  for  the 
very  good  reason  that  two  of  its  principals,  Pretty- 
Heart  and  Capi,  could  not  speak,  and  the  third, 
myself,  was  incapable  of  uttering  two  words. 
However,  so  that  the  audience  would  clearly  un- 


58 


derstand  the  play,  Vitalis  explained  the  various 
situations,  as  the  piece  progressed.  For  instance, 
striking  up  a  warlike  air,  he  announced  the  en- 
trance of  General  Pretty-Heart,  who  had  won  his 
high  rank  in  various  battles  in  India.  Up  to  that 
day  General  Pretty-Heart  had  only  had  Capi  for 
a  servant,  but  he  now  wished  to  have  a  human  be- 
ing as  his  means  allowed  him  this  luxury.  For  a 
long  time  animals  had  been  the  slaves  of  men,  but 
it  was  time  that  such  was  changed! 

While  waiting  for  the  servant  to  arrive,  the  Gen- 
eral walked  up  and  down,  smoking  his  cigar.  You 
should  see  the  way  he  blew  the  smoke  into  the  on- 
lookers' faces!  Becoming  impatient,  he  began  to 
roll  his  eyes  like  a  man  who  is  about  to  have  a  fit 
of  temper.  He  bit  his  lips,  and  stamped  on  the 
ground.  At  the  third  stamp  I  had  to  make  my  ap- 
pearance on  the  scene,  led  by  Capi.  If  I  had  for- 
gotten my  part  the  dog  would  have  reminded  me. 
At  a  given  moment  he  held  out  his  paw  to  me  and 
introduced  me  to  the  General.  The  latter,  upon 
noticing  me,  held  up  his  two  hands  in  despair. 
What!  Was  that  the  servant  they  had  procured 
for  him.  Then  he  came  and  looked  pertly  up  into 
my  face,  and  walked  around  me,  shrugging  his 
shoulders.  His  expression  was  so  comical  that 
every  one  burst  out  laughing.  They  quite  under- 
stood that  the  monkey  thought  I  was  a  fool.  The 
spectators  thought  that  also.  The  piece  was  made 
to  show  how  dense  was  my  stupidity,  while  every 
opportunity  was  afforded  the  monkey  to  show  his 


MY  D^BUT 59 

sagacity  and  intelligence.  After  having  examined 
me  thoroughly,  the  General,  out  of  pity,  decided 
to  keep  me.  He  pointed  to  a  table  that  was  al- 
ready set  for  luncheon,  and  signed  to  me  to  take 
my  seat. 

"  The  General  thinks  that  after  his  servant  has 
had  something  to  eat  he  won't  be  such  an  idiot," 
explained  Vitalis. 

I  sat  down  at  the  little  table ;  a  table  napkin  was 
placed  on  my  plate.  What  was  I  to  do  with  the 
napkin? 

Capi  made  a  sign  for  me  to  use  it.  After  look- 
ing at  it  thoughtfully  for  a  moment,  I  blew  my 
nose.  Then  the  General  held  his  sides  with  laugh- 
ter, and  Capi  fell  over  with  his  four  paws  up  in 
the  air,  upset  at  my  stupidity. 

Seeing  that  I  had  made  a  mistake,  I  stared  again 
at  the  table  napkin,  wondering  what  I  was  to  do 
with  it  Then  I  had  an  idea.  I  rolled  it  up  and 
made  a  necktie  for  myself.  More  laughter  from 
the  General.  Another  fall  from  Capi,  his  paws  in 
the  air. 

Then,  finally  overcome  with  exasperation,  the 
General  dragged  me  from  the  chair,  seated  himself 
at  my  place,  and  ate  up  the  meal  that  had  been 
prepared  for  me. 

Ah !  he  knew  how  to  use  a  table  napkin !  How 
gracefully  he  tucked  it  into  his  uniform,  and 
spread  it  out  upon  his  knees.  And  with  what  an 
elegant  air  he  broke  his  bread  and  emptied  his 
glass! 


60  NOBODY'S  BOY 

The  climax  was  reached  when,  luncheon  over,  he 
asked  for  a  toothpick,  which  he  quickly  passed  be- 
tween his  teeth.  At  this,  applause  broke  out  on 
all  sides,  and  the  performance  ended  triumphantly. 

What  a  fool  of  a  servant  and  what  a  wonderful 
monkey ! 

On  our  way  back  to  the  inn  Vitalis  complimented 
me,  and  I  was  already  such  a  good  comedian  that 
I  appreciated  this  praise  from  my  master. 


CHAPTER  VII 

CHILD  AND  ANIMAL  LEARNING 

VITAL! S'  small  group  of  actors  were  certainly 
very  clever,  but  their  talent  was  not  very 
versatile.  For  this  reason  we  were  not  able  to 
remain  long  in  the  same  town.  Three  days  after 
our  arrival  in  Ussel  we  were  on  our  way  again. 
Where  were  we  going?  I  had  grown  bold  enough 
to  put  this  question  to  my  master. 

"  Do  you  know  this  part  of  the  country?  "  he 
asked,  looking  at  me. 

"  No." 

"  Then  why  do  you  ask  where  we  are  going?  " 

"  So  as  to  know." 

"To  know  what?" 

I  was  silent. 

"  Do  you  know  how  to  read  ?  "  he  asked,  after 
looking  thoughtfully  at  me  for  a  moment. 

"  No." 

"  Then  I'll  teach  you  from  a  book  the  names  and 
all  about  the  towns  through  which  we  travel.  It 
will  be  like  having  a  story  told  to  you." 

I  had  been  brought  up  in  utter  ignorance.  True, 
I  had  been  sent  to  the  village  school  for  one  month, 
but  during  this  month  I  had  never  once  had  a  book 
in  my  hand.  At  the  time  of  which  I  write,  there 

61 


62 NOBODY'S  BOY 

were  many  villages  in  France  that  did  not  even 
boast  of  a  school,  and  in  some,  where  there  was  a 
schoolmaster,  either  he  knew  nothing,  or  he  had 
some  other  occupation  and  could  give  little  atten- 
tion to  the  children  confided  to  his  care. 

This  was  the  case  with  the  master  of  our  vil- 
lage school.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  he  was 
ignorant,  but  during  the  month  that  I  attended 
his  school,  he  did  not  give  us  one  single  lesson.  He 
had  something  else  to  do.  By  trade  he  was  a  shoe- 
maker, or  rather,  a  clog  maker,  for  no  one  bought 
shoes  from  him.  He  sat  at  his  bench  all  day,  shav- 
ing pieces  of  beech  wood  into  clogs.  So  I  learnt 
absolutely  nothing  at  school,  not  even  my  alphabet. 

"  Is  it  difficult  to  read?  "  I  asked,  after  we  had 
walked  some  time  in  silence. 

"  Have  you  got  a  hard  head?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  but  I'd  like  to  learn  if  you'll 
teach  me." 

"Well,  we'll  see  about  that.  We've  plenty  of 
time  ahead  of  us." 

Time  ahead  of  us !  Why  not  commence  at  once? 
I  did  not  know  how  difficult  it  was  to  learn  to 
read.  I  thought  that  I  just  had  to  open  a  book 
and,  almost  at  once,  know  what  it  contained. 

The  next  day,  as  we  were  walking  along,  Vi- 
talis  stooped  down  and  picked  up  a  piece  of  wood 
covered  with  dust. 

"  See,  this  is  the  book  from  which  you  are  going 
to  learn  to  read,"  he  said. 

A  book !    A  piece  of  wood !    I  looked  at  him  to 


LEARNING 


see  if  he  were  joking.  But  he  looked  quite  serious. 
I  stared  at  the  bit  of  wood.  It  was  as  long  as  my 
arm  and  as  wide  as  my  two  hands.  There  was  no 
inscription  or  drawing  on  it. 

"Wait  until  we  get  to  those  trees  down  there, 
where  we'll  rest,"  said  Vitalis,  smiling  at  my  as- 
tonishment. "  I'll  show  you  how  I'm  going  to 
teach  you  to  read  from  this." 

When  we  got  to  the  trees  we  threw  our  bags  on 
the  ground  and  sat  down  on  the  green  grass  with 
the  daisies  growing  here  and  there.  Pretty-Heart, 
having  got  rid  of  his  chain,  sprang  up  into  a  tree 
and  shook  the  branches  one  after  the  other,  as 
though  he  were  making  nuts  fall.  The  dogs  lay 
down  beside  us.  Vitalis  took  out  his  knife  and, 
after  having  smoothed  the  wood  on  both  sides,  be- 
gan to  cut  tiny  pieces,  twelve  all  of  equal  size. 

"  I  am  going  to  carve  a  letter  out  of  each  piece 
of  wood,"  he  said,  looking  up  at  me.  I  had  not 
taken  my  eyes  off  of  him.  "  You  will  learn  these 
letters  from  their  shapes,  and  when  you  are  able 
to  tell  me  what  they  are,  at  first  sight,  I'll  form 
them  into  words.  When  you  can  read  the  words, 
then  you  shall  learn  from  a  book." 

I  soon  had  my  pockets  full  of  little  bits  of  wood, 
and  was  not  long  in  learning  the  letters  of  the  al- 
phabet, but  to  know  how  to  read  was  quite  another 
thing.  I  could  not  get  along  very  fast,  and  often 
I  regretted  having  expressed  a  wish  to  learn.  I 
must  say,  however,  it  was  not  because  I  was  lazy, 
it  was  pride. 


NOBODY'S  BOY 


While  teaching  me  my  letters  Vitalis  thought 
that  he  would  teach  Capi  at  the  same  time.  If  a 
dog  could  learn  to  tell  the  hour  from  a  watch,  why 
could  he  not  learn  the  letters?  The  pieces  of  wood 
were  all  spread  out  on  the  grass,  and  he  was  taught 
that  with  his  paw  he  must  draw  out  the  letter  for 
which  he  was  asked. 

At  first  I  made  more  progress  than  he,  but  if  I 
had  quicker  intelligence,  he  had  better  memory. 
Once  he  learnt  a  thing  he  knew  it  always.  He  did 
pot  forget.  When  I  made  a  mistake  Vitalis  would 
say: 

"  Capi  will  learn  to  read  before  you,  Remi." 

And  Capi,  evidently  understanding,  proudly 
shook  his  tail. 

I  was  so  hurt  that  I  applied  myself  to  the  task 
with  all  my  heart,  and  while  the  poor  dog  could 
get  no  farther  than  pulling  out  the  four  letters 
which  spelled  his  name,  I  finally  learned  to  read 
from  a  book. 

"  Now  that  you  know  how  to  read  words,  how 
would  you  like  to  read  music?"  asked  Vitalis. 

"  If  I  knew  how  lo  read  music  could  I  sing  like 
you?"  I  asked. 

"  Ah,  so  you  would  like  to  sing  like  me,"  he  an- 
swered. 

"  I  know  that  would  be  impossible,  but  I'd  like 
to  sing  a  little." 

"  Do  you  like  to  hear  me  sing,  then?  " 

"  I  like  it  more  than  anything.  It  is  better  than 
the  nightingales,  but  it's  not  like  their  song  at 


LEARNING  65 


all.  When  you  sing,  sometimes  I  want  to  cry,  and 
sometimes  I  want  to  laugh.  Don't  think  me  silly, 
master,  but  when  you  sing  those  songs,  I  think  that 
I  am  back  with  dear  Mother  Barberin.  If  I  shut 
my  eyes  I  can  see  her  again  in  our  little  house,  and 
yet  I  don't  know  the  words  you  sing,  because  they 
are  Italian." 

I  looked  up  at  him  and  saw  the  tears  standing 
in  his  eyes ;  then  I  stopped  and  asked  him  if  what 
I  had  said  hurt  him. 

"  No,  my  child,"  he  said,  his  voice  shaking,  "  you 
do  not  pain  me ;  on  the  contrary,  you  take  me  back 
to  my  younger  days.  Yes,  I  will  teach  you  to  sing, 
little  Remi,  and,  as  you  have  a  heart,  you  also  will 
make  people  weep  with  your  songs." 

He  stopped  suddenly,  and  I  felt  that  he  did  not 
wish  to  say  more  at  that  moment.  I  did  not  know 
the  reason  why  he  should  feel  sad. 

The  next  day  he  cut  out  little  pieces  of  wood 
for  the  music  notes  the  same  as  he  had  for  the  let- 
ters. The  notes  were  more  complicated  than  the 
alphabet,  and  this  time  I  found  it  much  harder 
and  more  tedious  to  learn.  Vitalis,  so  patient  with 
the  dogs,  more  than  once  lost  patience  with  me. 

"  With  an  animal,"  he  cried,  "  one  controls  one- 
self, because  one  is  dealing  with  a  poor  dumb  crea- 
ture, but  you  are  enough  to  drive  me  mad !  "  lie 
threw  up  his  hands  dramatically. 

Pretty-Heart,  who  took  special  delight  in  imi- 
tating gestures  he  thought  funny,  mimicked  my 
master,  and  as  the  monkey  was  present  at  my  les- 


66 NOBODY'S  BOY 

sons  every  day,  I  had  the  humiliation  to  see  him 
lift  his  arms  in  despair  every  time  I  hesitated. 

"  See,  Pretty-Heart  is  even  mocking  you,"  cried 
Yitalis. 

If  I  had  dared,  I  would  have  said  that  he  mocked 
the  master  just  as  much  as  the  pupil,  but  respect, 
as  well  as  a  certain  fear,  forbade  me. 

Finally,  after  many  weeks  of  study,  I  was  able 
to  sing  an  air  from  a  piece  of  paper  that  Vitalis 
himself  had  written.  That  day  my  master  did  not 
throw  up  his  hands,  but  instead,  patted  me  on  the 
cheek,  declaring  that  if  I  continued  thus  I  should 
certainly  become  a  great  singer. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ONE  WHO   HAD  KNOWN  A  KING 

OUR  mode  of  traveling  was  very  simple:  We 
went  straight  ahead,  anywhere,  and  when 
we  found  a  village,  which  from  the  distance  looked 
sufficiently  important,  we  began  preparations  for 
a  triumphal  entry.  I  dressed  the  dogs,  and 
combed  Dulcie's  hair;  stuck  a  plaster  over  Capi's 
eye  when  he  was  playing  the  part  of  an  old  grouchy 
man,  and  forced  Pretty-Heart  into  his  General's 
uniform.  That  was  the  most  difficult  thing  I  had 
to  do,  for  the  monkey,  who  knew  well  enough  that 
this  was  a  prelude  to  work  for  him,  invented  the 
oddest  tricks  to  prevent  me  from  dressing  him. 
Then  I  was  forced  to  call  Capi  to  come  to  my  aid, 
and  between  the  two  of  us  we  finally  managed  to 
subdue  him. 

The  company  all  dressed,  Vitalis  took  his  fife 
and  we  went  in  marching  order  into  the  village. 
If  the  number  of  people  who  trooped  behind  us  was 
sufficient,  we  gave  a  performance,  but  if  we  had 
only  a  few  stragglers,  we  did  not  think  it  worth 
our  while  to  stop,  so  continued  on  our  way.  When 
we  stayed  several  days  in  a  town,  Vitalis  would  let 
me  go  about  alone  if  Capi  was  with  me.  He 
(rusted  me  with  Capi. 

67 


68 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"You  are  traveling  through  France  at  the  age 
when  most  boys  are  at  school,"  he  once  said  to  me ; 
"  qf>en_ jo.ur  eyes,  look  and  learn.  When  you  see 
something  that  you  do  not  understand,  do  not  be 
afraid  to  ask  me  questions.  I  have  not  always 
been  what  you  see  me  now.  I  have  learnt  many 
other  things." 

"What?" 

"We  will  speak  of  that  later.  For  the  present 
listen  to  my  advice,  and  when  you  grow  up  I  hope 
you  will  think  with  a  little  gratitude  of  the  poor 
musician  of  whom  you  were  so  afraid  when  he  took 
you  from  your  adopted  mother.  The  change  may 
not  be  bad  for  you  after  all." 

I  wondered  what  my  master  had  been  in  the 
days  gone  by. 

We  tramped  on  until  we  came  to  the  plains  of 
Quercy,  which  were  very  flat  and  desolate.  There 
was  not  a  brook,  pond,  or  river  to  be  seen.  In  the 
middle  of  the  plain  we  came  to  a  small  village 
called  Bastide-Murat.  We  spent  the  night  in  a 
barn  belonging  to  the  inn. 

"  It  was  here  in  this  village,"  said  Vitalis,  "  and 
probably  in  this  inn,  that  a  man  was  born  who  led 
thousands  of  soldiers  to  battle  and  who,  having 
commenced  his  life  as  a  stable  boy,  afterwards  be- 
came a  king.  His  name  was  Murat.  They  called 
him  a  hero,  and  they  named  this  village  after  him. 
I  knew  him  and  often  talked  with  him." 

"  When  he  was  a  stable  boy?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Vitalis,  laughing,  "  when  he  was 


HAD  KNOWN  A  KING  69 

a  king.  This  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  in  this 
part  of  the  country.  I  knew  him  in  Naples,  where 
he  was  king." 

"  You  have  known  a  king ! " 

The  tone  in  which  I  said  this  must  have  been 
rather  comical,  for  my  master  laughed  heartily. 

We  were  seated  on  a  bench  before  the  stable  door, 
our  backs  against  the  wall,  which  was  still  hot 
from  the  sun's  rays.  The  locusts  were  chanting 
their  monotonous  song  in  a  great  sycamore  which 
covered  us  with  its  branches.  Over  the  tops  of 
the  houses  the  full  moon,  which  had  just  appeared, 
rose  gently  in  the  heavens.  The  night  seemed  all 
the  more  beautiful  because  the  day  had  been 
scorchingly  hot. 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  to  bed?  "  asked  Vitalis,  "  or 
would  you  like  me  to  tell  you  the  story  of  King 
Murat?  " 

"  Oh,  tell  me  the  story !  " 

Then  he  told  me  the  story  of  Joachim  Murat; 
for  hours  we  sat  on  the  bench.  As  he  talked,  the 
pale  light  from  the  moon  fell  across  him,  and  I 
listened  in  rapt  attention,  my  eyes  fixed  on  his 
face.  I  had  not  heard  this  story  before.  Who 
would  have  told  me?  Not  Mother  Barberin, 
surely !  She  did  not  know  anything  about  it.  She 
was  born  at  Chavanon,  and  would  probably  die 
there.  Her  mind  had  never  traveled  farther  than 
her  eyes. 

My  master  had  seen  a  king,  and  this  king  had 
spoken  to  him !  What  was  my  master  in  his  youth, 


70 NOBODY'S  BOY 

and  how  had  he  become  what  I  saw  him  now  in  his 
old  age?  .  .  . 

We  had  been  tramping  since  morning.  Vitalis 
had  said  that  we  should  reach  a  village  by  night 
where  we  could  sleep,  but  night  had  come,  and  I 
saw  no  signs  of  this  village,  no  smoke  in  the  dis- 
tance to  indicate  that  we  were  near  a  house.  I 
could  see  nothing  but  a  stretch  of  plains  ahead  of 
us.  I  was  tired,  and  longed  to  go  to  sleep.  Vi- 
talis was  tired  also.  He  wanted  to  stop  and  rest 
by  the  roadside,  but  instead  of  sitting  down  beside 
him,  I  told  him  that  I  would  climb  a  hill  that  was 
on  the  left  of  us  and  see  if  I  could  make  out  a  vil- 
lage. I  called  Capi,  but  Capi  also  was  tired,  and 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  my  call;  this  he  usually  did 
when  he  did  not  wish  to  obey  me. 

"  Are  you  afraid?  "  asked  Vitalis. 

His  question  made  me  start  off  at  once,  alone. 

Night  had  fallen.  There  was  no  moon,  but  the 
twinkling  stars  in  the  sky  threw  their  light  on  a 
misty  atmosphere.  The  various  things  around  me 
seemed  to  take  on  a  strange,  weird  form  in  the  dim 
light.  Wild  furze  grew  in  bushes  beside  some  huge 
stones  which,  towering  above  me,  seemed  as  though 
they  turned  to  look  at  me.  The  higher  I  climbed, 
the  thicker  became  the  trees  and  shrubs,  their  tops 
passing  over  my  head  and  interlacing.  Sometimes 
I  had  to  crawl  through  them  to  get  by.  Yet  I  was 
determined  to  get  to  the  top  of  the  hill.  But,  when 
at  last  I  did,  and  gazed  around,  I  could  see  no 
light  anywhere;  nothing  but  strange  shadows  and 


HAD  KNOWN  A  KING  71 

forms,  and  great  trees  which  seemed  to  hold  out 
their  branches  to  me,  like  arms  ready  to  enfold 
me. 

I  listened  to  see  if  I  could  catch  the  bark  of  a 
dog,  or  the  bellow  of  a  cow,  but  all  was  silent. 
With  my  ear  on  the  alert,  scarcely  breathing  so  as 
to  hear  better,  I  stood  quiet  for  a  moment.  Then 
I  began  to  tremble,  the  silence  of  this  lonely,  un- 
cultivated country  frightened  me.  Of  what  was  I 
frightened?  The  silence  probably  .  .  .  the  night 
.  .  .  anyhow,  a  nameless  fear  was  creeping  over 
me.  My  heart  beat  quickly,  as  though  some  danger 
was  near.  I  glanced  fearfully  around  me,  and 
then  in  the  distance  I  saw  a  great  form  moving 
amongst  the  trees.  At  the  same  time  I  could  hear 
the  rustling  of  branches.  I  tried  to  tell  myself 
that  it  was  fear  that  made  me  fancy  I  saw  some- 
thing unusual.  Perhaps  it  was  a  shrub,  a  branch. 
But  then,  the  branches  were  moving  and  there  was 
not  a  breath  of  wind  or  a  breeze  that  could  shake 
them.  They  could  not  move  unless  swayed  by  the 
breeze  or  touched  by  some  one. 

Some  one? 

No,  this  great,  dark  form  that  was  coming  to- 
wards me  could  not  be  a  man  —  some  kind  of  ani- 
mal that  I  did  not  know,  or  an  immense  night  bird, 
a  gigantic  spider,  hovering  over  the  tops  of  the 
trees.  What  was  certain,  this  creature  had  legs  of 
unusual  length,  which  brought  it  along  with  amaz- 
ing bounds.  Seeing  this,  I  quickly  found  my  own 
legs,  and  rushed  down  the  hill  towards  Vitalis. 


72 NOBODY'S  BOY 

But,  strange  to  say,  I  made  less  haste  going  down 
than  I  had  in  climbing  up.  I  threw  myself  into 
the  thick  of  the  thistles  and  brambles,  scratching 
myself  at  every  step.  Scrambling  out  of  a  prickly 
bush  I  took  a  glance  back.  The  animal  was  com- 
ing nearer!  It  was  almost  upon  me! 

Fortunately,  I  had  reached  the  bottom  of  the 
hill  and  I  could  run  quicker  across  the  grass.  Al- 
though I  raced  at  the  top  of  my  speed,  the  Thing 
was  gaining  upon  me.  There  was  no  need  for  me 
to  look  behind,  I  knew  that  it  was  just  at  the  back 
of  me.  I  could  scarcely  breathe.  My  race  had  al- 
most exhausted  me;  my  breath  came  in  gasps.  I 
made  one  final  effort  and  fell  sprawling  at  Vitalis' 
feet.  I  could  only  repeat  two  words : 

"  The  beast !  the  beast !  " 

Above  the  loud  barking  of  the  dogs,  I  heard  a 
hearty  peal  of  laughter.  At  the  same  time  my 
master  put  his  hands  on  my  shoulders  and  forced 
me  to  look  round. 

"  You  goose,"  he  cried,  still  laughing,  "  look  up 
and  see  it." 

His  laugh,  more  than  his  words,  brought  me  to 
my  senses.  I  opened  one  eye,  then  the  other,  and 
looked  where  he  was  pointing.  The  apparition, 
which  had  so  frightened  me,  had  stopped  and  wras 
standing  still  in  the  road.  At  the  sight  of  it  again, 
I  must  confess,  I  began  to  shake,  but  I  was  with 
Vitalis  and  the  dogs  were  beside  me.  I  was  not 
alone  up  there  in  the  trees.  ...  I  looked  up  boldly 
and  fixed  my  eyes  on  the  Thing. 


HAD  KNOWN  A  KING  73 

Was  it  an  animal  or  a  man?  It  had  the  body, 
the  head,  and  arms  like  a  man,  but  the  shaggy  skin 
which  covered  it,  and  the  two  long  thin  legs  upon 
which  it  seemed  to  poise,  looked  as  though  they 
belonged  to  an  animal. 

Although  the  night  was  dark,  I  could  see  this, 
for  the  silhouette  of  this  dark  form  stood  out 
against  the  starry  sky.  I  should  have  remained  a 
long  time  undecided  as  to  what  it  was,  if  my  mas- 
ter had  not  spoken  to  it. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  if  we  are  far  from  the  vil- 
lage? "  he  asked,  politely. 

He  was  a  man,  then,  if  one  could  speak  to  him ! 
What  was  my  astonishment  when  the  animal  said 
that  there  were  no  houses  near,  but  an  inn  to  which 
he  would  take  us.  If  he  could  talk,  why  did  he 
have  paws? 

If  I  had  had  the  courage,  I  would  have  gone  up 
to  him  to  see  how  his  paws  were  made,  but  I  was 
still  somewhat  afraid,  so  I  picked  up  my  bag  and 
followed  my  master,  without  saying  a  word. 

"  You  see  now  what  scared  you  so,"  Vitalis  said, 
laughing,  as  we  went  on  our  way. 

"  But  I  don't  know  what  it  is,  yet.  Are  there 
giants  in  this  part  of  the  country,  then?  " 

"  Yes,  when  men  are  standing  on  stilts." 

Then  he  explained  to  me  that  the  Landais,  so  as 
to  get  over  the  marshy  plains,  and  not  sink  in  up 
to  their  hips,  stride  about  the  country  on  stilts. 

What  a  goose  I  had  been ! 


CHAPTER  IX 


I  HAD  a  pleasant  remembrance  of  Pan,  the 
beautiful  winter  resort  where  the  wind 
scarcely  ever  blew.  We  stayed  there  the  whole 
winter,  for  we  were  taking  in  quite  a  lot  of  money. 
Our  audience  consisted  mostly  of  children,  and 
they  were  never  tired  if  we  did  give  the  same  per- 
formance over  and  over  again.  They  were  chil- 
dren of  the  rich,  mostly  English  and  American. 
Fat  little  boys,  with  ruddy  skins,  and  pretty  little 
girls  with  soft  eyes  almost  as  beautiful  as  Dulcie's. 
It  was  from  these  children  that  I  got  a  taste  for 
candy,  for  they  always  came  with  their  pockets 
stuffed  with  sweets  which  they  divided  between 
Pretty-Heart,  the  dogs,  and  myself.  But  when  the 
spring  approached  our  audience  grew  smaller. 
One  by  one,  two  by  two,  the  little  ones  came  to 
shake  hands  with  Pretty-Heart,  Capi,  and  Dulcie. 
They  had  come  to  say  good-by.  They  were  going 
away.  So  we  also  had  to  leave  the  beautiful  win- 
ter resort  and  take  up  our  wandering  life  again. 
For  a  long  time,  I  do  not  know  how  many  days 
or  weeks,  we  went  through  valleys,  over  hills,  leav- 
ing behind  the  bluish  top  of  the  Pyrenees,  which 

now  looked  like  a  mass  of  clouds. 

74 


ARRESTED  75 


Then  one  night  we  came  to  a  great  town  with 
ugly  red  brick  houses  and  with  streets  paved  with 
little  pointed  stones,  hard  to  the  feet  of  travelers 
who  had  walked  a  dozen  miles  a  day.  My  master 
told  me  that  we  were  in  Toulouse  and  that  we 
should  stay  there  for  a  long  time.  As  usual,  the 
first  thing  we  did  was  to  look  about  for  a  suitable 
place  to  hold  the  next  day's  performance.  Suit- 
able places  were  not  lacking,  especially  near  the 
Botanical  Gardens,  where  there  is  a  beautiful 
lawn  shaded  with  big  trees  and  a  wide  avenue 
leading  to  it.  It  was  in  one  of  the  side  walks  that 
we  gave  our  first  performance. 

A  policeman  stood  by  while  we  arranged  our 
things.  He  seemed  annoyed,  either  because  he  did 
not  like  dogs,  or  because  he  thought  we  had  no 
business  there;  he  tried  to  send  us  away.  It  would 
have  been  better  if  we  had  gone.  We  were  not 
strong  enough  to  hold  out  against  the  police,  but 
my  master  did  not  think  so.  Although  he  was  an 
old  man,  strolling  about  the  country  with  his  dogs, 
he  was  very  proud.  He  considered  that  as  he  was 
not  breaking  the  law,  he  should  have  police  pro- 
tection, so  when  the  officer  wanted  to  send  us  away, 
he  refused  to  leave. 

Vitalis  was  very  polite;  in  fact  he  carried  his 
Italian  politeness  to  the  extreme.  One  might 
have  thought  that  he  was  addressing  some  high 
and  mighty  personage. 

"  The  illustrious  gentleman,  who  represents  the 
police  authority,"  he  said,  taking  off  his  hat  and 


76 NOBODY'S  BOY 

bowing  low  to  the  policeman,  "  can  he  show  me  an 
order  emanating  from  the  said  authority,  which 
states  that  it  is  forbidden  for  poor  strolling  play- 
ers, like  ourselves,  to  carry  on  their  humble  pro- 
fession on  a  public  square?  " 

The  policeman  replied  that  he  would  have  no 
argument.  We  must  obey. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Vitalis,  "  and  I  promise 
that  I  will  do  as  you  order  as  soon  as  you  let  me 
know  by  what  authority  you  issue  it." 

That  day  the  officer  turned  on  his  heels,  and  my 
master,  with  hat  in  hand,  body  bent  low,  smilingly 
bowed  to  the  retreating  form. 

But  the  next  day  the  representative  of  the  law 
returned,  and  jumping  over  the  ropes  which  in- 
closed our  theater,  he  sprang  into  the  middle  of 
the  performance. 

"  Muzzle  those  dogs,"  he  said  roughly  to  Vitalis. 

"  Muzzle  my  dogs !  " 

"It's  an  order  of  the  law,  you  ought  to  know 
that!" 

The  spectators  began  to  protest. 

"Don't  interrupt!" 

"  Let  him  finish  the  show,  cop !  " 

Vitalis  then  took  off  his  felt  hat,  and  with  his 
plumes  sweeping  the  ground,  he  made  three  stately 
bows  to  the  officer. 

"  The  illustrious  gentleman  representing  the 
law,  does  he  tell  me  that  I  must  muzzle  my  actors?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Yes,  and  be  quick  about  it ! " 


ARRESTED 77 

"  Muzzle  Capi,  Zerbino,  and  Dulcie,"  cried  Vi- 
talis,  addressing  himself  more  to  the  audience  than 
to  the  officer ;  "  how  can  the  great  physician,  Capi, 
known  throughout  the  universe,  prescribe  a  cure 
for  Mr.  Pretty-Heart,  if  the  said  physician  wears 
a  muzzle  on  the  end  of  his  nose?  " 

The  children  and  parents  began  to  laugh.  Vi- 
talis,  encouraged  by  the  applause,  continued: 

"And  how  can  the  charming  nurse,  Dulcie,  use 
her  eloquence  to  persuade  the  patient  to  take  the 
horrible  medicine  which  is  to  relieve  him  of  his 
pains  if  I  am  forced  to  carry  out  this  cruel  order 
of  the  law?  I  ask  the  audience  if  this  is  fair?  " 

The  clapping  of  hands  and  shouts  of  laughter 
from  the,  onlookers  was  answer  enough.  They 
cheered  Vitalis  and  hooted  the  policeman  and, 
above  all,  they  were  amused  at  the  grimaces  Pretty- 
Heart  was  making.  He  had  taken  his  place  be- 
hind the  "  illustrious  gentleman  who  represented 
the  law,"  and  was  making  ridiculous  grimaces  be- 
hind his  back.  The  officer  crossed  his  arms,  then 
uncrossed  them  and  stuck  his  fists  on  his  hips  and 
threw  back  his  head,  so  did  the  monkey.  The  on- 
lookers screamed  with  laughter. 

The  officer  turned  round  suddenly  to  see  what 
amused  them,  and  saw  the  monkey  striking  his 
own  attitude  to  perfection.  For  some  moments 
the  monkey  and  the  man  stared  at  each  other.  It 
was  a  question  which  would  lower  his  eyes  first. 
The  crowd  yelled  with  delight. 

"  If  your  dogs  are  not  muzzled  to-morrow,"  cried 


78 NOBODY'S  BOY 

the  policeman,  angrily  shaking  his  first,  "you'll 
be  arrested.  That's  all." 

"Good-day,  until  to-morrow,  Signor,"  said  Vi- 
talis,  bowing,  "  until  to-morrow  .  .  ." 

As  the  officer  strode  away,  Vitalis  stood  with  his 
body  almost  bent  to  the  ground  in  mock  respect. 

I  thought  that  he  would  buy  some  muzzles  for 
the  dogs,  but  he  did  nothing  of  the  kind',  and  the 
evening  passed  without  him  even  mentioning  his 
quarrel  with  the  policeman.  I  decided  at  last  to 
broach  the  subject  myself. 

"  If  you  don't  want  Capi  to  tear  off  his  muzzle 
to-morrow  during  the  performance,"  I  said,  "  I 
think  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  put  it  on  him 
beforehand,  and  let  him  get  used  to  it.  We  can 
teach  him  that  he  must  keep  it  on." 

"  You  think  I  am  going  to  put  one  of  those  things 
on  their  little  noses?  " 

"  The  officer  is  down  on  us." 

"  You  are  only  a  country  boy.  Like  all  peas- 
ants you  are  afraid  of  a  policeman. 

"  Don't  wrorry,"  he  added,  "  I'll  have  matters  ar- 
ranged to-morrow  so  that  the  policeman  can't  have 
me  arrested,  and  at  the  same  time  so  that  the  dogs 
won't  be  uncomfortable.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
public  shall  be  amused  a  bit.  This  officer  should 
be  the  means  of  bringing  us  some  more  money  and, 
in  the  bargain,  play  the  comic  role  in  the  piece  that 
I  shall  prepare  for  him.  Now,  to-morrow,  you  are 
to  go  there  alone  with  Pretty-Heart.  You  will  ar- 
range the  ropes,  and  play  a  few  pieces  on  your 


ARRESTED  79 


harp,  and  when  you  have  a  large  audience  the 
officer  will  arrive  on  the  scene.  I  will  make  my 
appearance  with  the  dogs.  Then  the  farce  will 
commence." 

I  did  not  at  all  like  going  alone  the  next  day,  but 
I  knew  that  my  master  must  be  obeyed. 

As  soon  as  I  got  to  our  usual  place  I  roped  off 
an  inclosure  and  commenced  to  play.  The  peo- 
ple came  from  all  parts  and  crowded  outside  the 
ropes.  By  now  I  had  learnt  to  play  the  harp  and 
sing  very  well.  Amongst  other  songs,  I  had  learnt 
a  Neapolitan  canzonetta  which  was  always  greatly 
applauded.  But  to-day  I  knew  that  the  crowd  had 
not  come  to  pay  tribute  to  my  talent.  All  who  had 
witnessed  the  dispute  with  the  officer  the  day  be- 
fore were  present,  and  had  brought  their  friends 
with  them.  The  police  are  not  liked  at  Toulouse, 
and  the  public  were  curious  to  see  how  the  old  Ital- 
ian would  come  out,  and  what  significance  was  at- 
tached to  his  parting  words,  "  Until  to-morrow, 
Signor."  Several  of  the  spectators,  seeing  me 
alone  with  Pretty-Heart,  interrupted  my  song  to 
ask  if  the  "  old  Italian  "  was  coming. 

I  nodded.  The  policeman  arrived.  Pretty- 
Heart  saw  him  first.  He  at  once  put  his  clenched 
hands  on  his  hips  and  began  trotting  around  in 
a  ridiculously  important  manner.  The  crowd 
laughed  at  his  antics  and  clapped  their  hands. 
The  officer  glared  at  me  angrily. 

How  was  it  going  to  end?  I  was  rather  ill  at 
ease.  If  Vitalis  were  there  he  could  reply  to  the 


80 NOBODY'S  BOY 

officer.  But  I  was  alone.  If  he  ordered  me  away, 
what  should  I  say? 

The  policeman  strode  back  and  forth  outside  the 
ropes,  and  when  he  passed  near  me,  he  had  a  way 
of  looking  at  me  over  his  shoulder  that  did  not 
reassure  me. 

Pretty-Heart  did  not  understand  the  seriousness 
of  the  situation,  so  he  gleefully  strutted  along  in- 
side the  ropes,  side  by  side  with  the  officer,  mimick- 
ing his  every  movement.  As  he  passed  me,  he 
also  looked  at  me  over  his  shoulder  in  such  a  comi- 
cal manner  that  the  people  laughed  still  louder. 

I  thought  the  matter  had  gone  far  enough,  so 
I  called  Pretty-Heart,  but  he  was  in  no  mood  to 
obey,  and  continued  his  walk,  running  and  dodg- 
ing me  when  I  tried  to  catch  him.  I  don't  know 
how  it  happened,  but  the  policeman,  probably  mad 
with  rage,  thought  that  I  was  encouraging  the 
monkey,  for  he  quickly  jumped  the  ropes.  In  a 
moment  he  was  upon  me,  and  had  knocked  me  to 
the  ground  with  one  blow.  When  I  opened  my 
eyes  and  got  to  my  feet  Vitalis,  who  had  sprung 
from  I  don't  know  where,  stood  before  me.  He 
had  just  seized  the  policeman's  wrist. 

"  I  forbid  you  to  strike  that  child,"  he  cried% 
"  what  a  cowardly  thing  to  do !  " 

For  some  moments  the  two  men  looked  at  each 
other.  The  officer  was  purple  with  rage.  My 
master  was  superb.  He  held  his  beautiful  white 
head  high ;  his  face  expressed  indignation  and  com- 
mand. His  look  was  enough  to  make  the  police- 


ARRESTED  81 


man  sink  into  the  earth,  but  he  did  nothing  of  the 
kind.  He  wrenched  his  hand  free,  seized  my  mas- 
ter by  the  collar  and  roughly  pushed  him  before 
him.  Vitalis  stumbled  and  almost  fell,  but  he 
drew  himself  up  quickly  and  with  his  free  hand 
struck  the  officer  on  the  wrist,  My  master  was  a 
strong  man,  but  still  he  was  an  old  man,  and  the 
policeman  was  young  and  robust.  I  saw  how 
a  struggle  would  end.  But  there  was  no  strug- 
gle. 

"  You  come  along  with  me,"  said  the  officep, 
"  you're  under  arrest." 

"  Why  did  you  strike  that  child?  "  demanded  Vi- 
talis. 

"  No  talk.    Follow  me." 

Vitalis  did  not  reply,  but  turned  round  to  me. 

"  Go  back  to  the  inn,"  he  said,  "  and  stay  there 
with  the  dogs.  I'll  send  word  to  you." 

He  had  no  chance  to  say  more,  for  the  officer 
dragged  him  off.  So  ended  the  performance  that 
my  poor  master  had  wanted  to  make  amusing. 
The  dogs  at  first  had  followed  their  master,  but  I 
called  them  back,  and  accustomed  to  obey,  they 
returned  to  me.  I  noticed  that  they  were  muzzled, 
but  instead  of  their  faces  being  inclosed  in  the 
usual  dog-muzzle,  they  simply  wore  a  pretty  piece 
of  silk  fastened  round  their  noses  and  tied  under 
their  chins.  Capi,  who  was  white,  wore  red;  Zer- 
bino,  who  was  black,  wore  white,  and  Dulcie,  who 
was  gray,  wore  blue.  My  poor  master  had  thus 
carried  out  the  order  of  the  law. 


82 NOBODY'S  BOY 

The  public  had  quickly  dispersed.  A  few  strag- 
glers remained  to  discuss  what  had  happened. 

"  The  old  man  was  right." 

"  He  was  wrong." 

'•  Why  did  the  cop  strike  the  boy?  He  did  noth- 
ing to  him ;  never  said  a  word." 

"  Bad  business.  The  old  fellow  will  go  to  jail, 
for  sure ! " 

I  went  back  to  the  inn,  depressed.  I  had  grown 
very  fond  of  my  master,  more  and  more  every  day. 
We  lived  the  same  life  together  from  morning  till 
night,  and  often  from  night  to  morning,  when  we 
had  to  sleep  on  the  same  bed  of  straw.  No  father 
could  have  shown  more  care  for  his  child  than  he 
showed  for  me.  He  had  taught  me  to  read,  to 
sing,  and  to  write.  During  our  long  tramps  he 
gave  me  lessons,  first  on  one  subject  then  on  an- 
other. On  very  cold  days  he  shared  his  coverings 
with  me,  on  hot  days  he  had  always  helped  me 
carry  the  bags,  and  the  various  things  which  I 
was  supposed  to  carry.  And  when  we  ate  he  never 
served  me  the  worst  piece,  keeping  the  best  for 
himself;  on  the  contrary,  he  shared  it  equally,  the 
good  and  the  bad.  It  is  true,  he  sometimes  pulled 
my  ears  more  roughly  than  I  liked,  but  if  I  needed 
the  correction,  what  of  that?  In  a  word,  I  loved 
him,  and  he  loved  me.  For  how  long  would  they 
send  him  to  prison?  What  should  I  do  during 
that  time?  How  should  I  live? 

Vitalis  was  in  the  habit  of  carrying  his  money  on 
him,  and  he  had  not  had  time  to  give  me  anything 


ARRESTED  83 


before  he  was  dragged  off.  I  had  only  a  few  sous 
in  my  pocket.  Would  it  be  enough  to  buy  food  for 
Pretty-Heart,  the  dogs,  and  myself?  I  spent  the 
next  two  days  in  agony,  not  daring  to  leave  the 
inn.  The  monkey  and  the  dogs  were  also  very 
downcast.  At  last,  on  the  third  day,  a  man 
brought  me  a  letter  from  him.  Vitalis  wrote  me 
that  on  the  following  Saturday  he  was  to  be  tried 
for  resisting  police  authority,  and  for  attacking  an 
officer. 

"  I  was  wrong  to  get  into  a  temper,"  he  wrote. 
"  This  may  cost  me  dearly,  but  it  is  too  late  now. 
Come  to  the  court,  you  will  learn  a  lesson."  Then 
he  gave  me  some  advice,  and  sent  his  love  to  me, 
telling  me  to  caress  the  animals  for  him. 

While  I  was  reading  the  letter,  Capi,  standing 
between  my  feet,  put  his  nose  to  the  paper,  and 
sniffed  it.  I  could  see  by  the  way  he  wagged  his 
tail  that  he  knew  it  had  come  from  his  master. 
This  was  the  first  time  in  three  days  that  he  had 
showed  any  signs  of  joy. 

I  got  to  the  court  early  on  Saturday  morning. 
Many  of  the  people  who  had  witnessed  the  scene 
with  the  policeman  were  present.  I  was  so  scared 
at  being  in  court  that  I  got  behind  a  large  stove 
and  squeezed  up  as  small  as  I  could  against  the 
wall.  Some  men  who  had  been  arrested  for  rob- 
bery, others  for  fighting,  were  tried  first.  All  said 
that  they  were  innocent,  but  all  were  found  guilty. 
At  last  Vitalis  was  brought  in.  He  sat  down  on 
a  bench  between  two  policemen.  What  he  said  at 


84 NOBODY'S  BOY 

first,  and  what  they  asked  him,  I  scarcely  knew,  my 
emotion  was  so  great.  I  stared  at  Vitalis ;  he  stood 
upright,  his  white  head  thrown  back.  He  looked 
ashamed  and  worried.  I  looked  at  the  judge. 

"  You  gave  blows  to  the  officer  who  arrested 
you,"  said  the  judge. 

"  Not  blows,  your  Honor,"  said  Vitalis,  "  I  only 
struck  once.  When  I  got  to  the  place  where  we 
were  to  give  our  performance,  I  was  just  in  time  to 
see  the  officer  fell  a  child  to  the  ground  with  a 
blow,  the  little  boy  who  is  with  me." 

"  The  child  is  not  yours." 

"No,  but  I  love  him  as  my  own  son.  When  I 
saw  him  struck  I  lost  my  temper  and  seized  the 
policeman's  arm  so  that  he  could  not  strike  again." 

"You  struck  him?" 

"When  he  laid  his  hands  on  me  I  thought  of 
him  only  as  a  man,  not  as  a  police  officer." 

The  officer  then  said  what  he  had  to  say. 

Vitalis'  eyes  roamed  around  the  room.  I  knew 
that  he  was  looking  to  see  if  I  were  there,  so  I  de- 
cided to  come  out  of  my  hiding  place,  and  elbowing 
through  the  crowd  of  people,  I  came  and  stood  be- 
side him.  His  face  lit  up  when  he  saw  me.  Pres- 
ently, the  trial  ended.  He  was  sentenced  to  two, 
mouths'  imprisonment  and  a  fine  of  one  hundred 
francs.  Two  months'  prison!  The  door  through 
which  Vitalis  had  entered  was  opened.  Through 
my  tears  I  saw  him  follow  a  policeman,  and  the 
door  closed  behind  him.  Two  months'  separation ! 

Where  should  I  go? 


CHAPTER  X 

HOMELESS 

WHEN  I  returned  to  the  inn  with  heavy 
heart  and  red  eyes,  the  landlord  was  stand- 
ing in  the  yard.  I  was  going  to  pass  him  to  get 
to  my  dogs,  but  he  stopped  me. 

"  Well,  what  about  your  master?  "  he  asked. 

"  He  is  sentenced." 

"  How  long?  " 

"  Two  months'  prison." 

"  How  much  fine?  " 

"  One  hundred  francs." 

"  Two  months  .  .  .  one  hundred  francs,"  he  re- 
peated two  or  three  times.' 

I  wanted  to  go  on,  but  again  he  stopped  me. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  these  two  months?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know.  You've  got  some  money 
to  live  on  and  to  buy  food  for  your  animals,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Then  do  you  count  on  me  keeping  you?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  don't  count  on  any  one." 

That  was  true.     I  did  not  count  upon  any  one. 

"  Your  master  already  owes  me  a  lot  of  money," 
he  continued.  "  I  can't  board  you  for  two  mouths 

85 


86 NOBODY'S  BOY 

without  knowing  if  I  shall  be  paid.  You'll  have 
to  go." 

"  Go!    Where  shall  I  go,  sir?  " 

"That's  not  my  business.  I'm  nothing  to  you. 
Why  should  I  keep  you?  " 

For  a  moment  I  was  dazed.  The  man  was  right. 
Why  should  he  give  me  shelter? 

"  Come,  take  your  dogs  and  monkey  and  get  out ! 
Of  course,  you  must  leave  your  master's  bag  with 
me.  When  he  comes  out  of  jail,  he'll  come  here  to 
get  it,  and  then  he  can  settle  his  account." 

An  idea  came  to  me. 

"  As  you  know  he  will  settle  his  bill  then,  can't 
you  keep  me  until  then,  and  add  what  I  cost  to  it?  " 

"  Ah,  ah !  Your  master  might  be  able  to  pay  for 
two  days'  lodging,  but  two  months!  that's  a  differ- 
ent thing." 

"  I'll  eat  as  little  as  you  wish." 

"And  your  dogs  and  monkey!  No,  be  off! 
You'll  pick  up  enough  in  the  villages." 

"  But,  sir,  how  will  my  master  find  me  when  he 
comes  out  of  prison?  He'll  come  to  look  for  me 
here." 

"All  you've  got  to  do  is  to  come  back  on  that 
day." 

"And  if  he  writes  to  me?  " 

"  I'll  keep  the  letter." 

"But  if  I  don't  answer  him?  .  .  ." 

"  Oh,  stop  your  talk.  Hurry  up  and  get  out !  I 
give  you  five  minutes.  If  I  find  you  here  when 
I  come  out  again  I'll  settle  you." 


HOMELESS  87 


I  knew  it  was  useless  to  plead  with  him.  I  had 
to  "  get  out."  I  went  to  the  stables  to  get  the 
dogs  and  Pretty-Heart,  then  strapping  my  harp 
on  niy  shoulder  I  left  the  inn. 

I  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  out  of  town,  for  my  dogs 
were  not  muzzled.  What  should  I  say  if  I  met  a 
policeman?  That  I  had  no  money?  It  was  the 
truth;  I  had  only  eleven  sous  in  my  pocket.  That 
was  not  enough  to  buy  muzzles.  They  might  ar- 
rest me.  If  Vitalis  and  I  were  both  in  prison, 
whatever  would  become  of  the  animals?  I  felt  the 
responsibility  of  my  position. 

As  I  walked  along  quickly  the  dogs  looked  up 
at  me  in  a  way  I  could  not  fail  to  understand. 
They  were  hungry.  Pretty-Heart,  whom  I  car- 
ried, pulled  my  ear  from  time  to  time  to  force  me 
to  look  at  him.  Then  he  rubbed  his  stomach  in  a 
manner  that  was  no  less  expressive  than  the  looks 
the  dogs  cast  at  me.  I  also  was  hungry.  We  had 
had  no  breakfast.  My  eleven  sous  could  not  buy 
enough  for  dinner  and  supper,  so  we  should  have 
to  be  satisfied  with  one  meal,  which,  if  we  took  it 
in  the  middle  of  the  day,  would  serve  us  for  two. 

I  wandered  along.  I  did  not  care  where  I  went ; 
it,  was  all  the  same  to  me,  for  I  did  not  know  the 
country.  The  question  of  finding  a  place  in  which 
to  sleep  did  not  worry  me;  we  could  sleep  in  the 
open  air.  .  .  .  But  to  eat! 

We  must  have  walked  for  about  two  hours  be- 
fore I  dared  to  stop,  and  yet  the  dogs  had  looked 
up  at  me  imploringly  and  Pretty-Heart  hud  pulled 


88 NOBODY'S  BOY 

my  ear  and  rubbed  his  stomach  incessantly.  At 
last  I  felt  that  I  was  far  enough  away  from  the 
town  to  have  nothing  to  fear.  I  went  into  the  first 
bakery  that  I  came  across.  I  asked  for  one  pound 
and  a  half  of  bread. 

"  You'd  do  well  to  take  a  two-pound  loaf,"  said 
the  woman.  "  That's  not  too  much  for  your  me- 
nagerie. You  must  feed  the  poor  dogs." 

Oh,  no,  it  was  not  too  much  for  my  menagerie, 
but  it  was  too  much  for  my  purse.  The  bread  was 
five  sous  a  pound ;  two  pounds  would  cost  ten  sous. 
I  did  not  think  it  wise  to  be  extravagant  before 
knowing  what  I  was  going  to  do  the  next  day.  I 
told  the  woman  in  an  offhand  manner  that  one 
pound  and  a  half  was  quite  enough  and  politely 
asked  her  not  to  cut  more.  I  left  the  shop  with 
my  bread  clutched  tightly  in  my  arms.  The  dogs 
jumped  joyfully  around  me.  Pretty-Heart  pulled 
my  hair  and  chuckled  with  glee. 

We  did  not  go  far.  At  the  first  tree  that  we 
saw  I  placed  my  harp  against  the  trunk  and  sat 
down  on  the  grass.  The  dogs  sat  opposite  me, 
Capi  in  the  middle,  Dulcie  at  one  side,  Zerbino  on 
the  other.  Pretty-Heart,  who  was  not  tired,  stood 
up  on  the  watch,  ready  to  snatch  the  first  piece  that 
he  could.  To  eke  out  the  meal  was  a  delicate  mat- 
ter. I  cut  the  bread  into  five  parts,  as  near  the 
same  size  as  possible,  and  distributed  the  slices. 
I  gave  each  a  piece  in  turn,  as  though  I  were  deal- 
ing cards.  Pretty-Heart,  who  required  less  food 
than  we,  fared  better,  for  he  was  quite  satisfied 


HOMELESS 89 

while  we  were  still  famished.  I  took  three  pieces 
from  his  share  and  hid  them  in  my  bag  to  give  the 
dogs  later.  Then,  as  there  still  remained  a  little 
piece,  I  broke  it  and  we  each  had  some;  that  was 
for  dessert. 

After  the  meal  I  felt  that  the  moment  had  come 
for  me  to  say  a  few  words  to  my  companions. 
Although  I  was  their  chief,  I  did  not  feel  that  I 
was  too  much  above  them  not  to  wish  them  to  take 
part  in  the  grave  situation  in  which  we  found  our- 
selves. 

Capi  had  probably  guessed  my  intentions,  for  he 
sat  with  his  big,  intelligent  eyes  fixed  on  me. 

"  Yes,  Capi,"  I  said,  "  and  you,  Dulcie,  Zerbino 
and  Pretty-Heart,  my  friends,  I've  bad  news  for 
you.  We  shan't  see  our  master  for  two  whole 
months." 

"  Ouah,"  barked  Capi. 

"  It's  bad  for  him  and  it's  also  bad  for  us,  for 
we  depend  on  him  for  everything,  and  now  he's 
gone,  we  haven't  any  money." 

At  the  mention  of  the  word  money,  which  he 
perfectly  understood,  Capi  rose  on  his  hind  paws 
and  commenced  to  trot  round  as  though  he  were 
collecting  money  from  the  "  distinguished  audi- 
ence." 

"  I  see  you  want  to  give  a  performance,  Capi," 
I  continued ;  "  that's  good  advice,  but  should  we 
make  anything?  That's  the  question.  We  have 
only  three  sous  left,  so  you  mustn't  get  hungry. 
You've  all  to  be  very  obedient;  that  will  make  it 


90  NOBODY'S  BOY 

easier  for  us  all.  You  must  help  me  all  you  can, 
you  dogs  and  Pretty-Heart.  I  want  to  feel  that 
I  can  count  on  you." 

I  would  not  make  so  bold  as  to  say  that  they 
understood  all  I  said,  but  they  got  the  general 
idea.  They  knew  by  our  master's  absence  that 
something  serious  had  happened,  and  they  had  ex- 
pected an  explanation  from  me.  If  they  did  not 
understand  all  that  I  said  to  them,  they  were  at 
least  satisfied  that  I  had  their  welfare  at  heart, 
and  they  showed  their  satisfaction  by  the  atten- 
tion they  gave  me. 

Attention?  Yes,  on  the  part  of  the  dogs  only. 
It  Was  impossible  for  Pretty-Heart  to  keep  still  for 
long.  He  could  not  fix  his  mind  upon  one  subject 
for  more  than  a  minute.  During  the  first  part  of 
my  discourse  he  had  listened  to  me  with  the  great- 
est interest,  but  before  I  had  said  twenty  words, 
he  had  sprung  up  into  a  tree,  the  branches  of  which 
hung  over  our  heads,  and  was  now  swinging  him- 
self from  branch  to  branch.  If  Capi  had  insulted 
me  in  like  manner,  my  pride  would  certainly  have 
been  hurt;  but  I  was  never  astonished  at  anything 
Pretty-Heart  might  do.  He  was  so  empty-headed. 
But  after  all,  it  was  quite  natural  that  he  should 
want  to  have  a  little  fun.  I  admit  that  I  would 
liked  to  have  done  the  same.  I  would  have  gone 
up  that  tree  with  pleasure,  but  the  importance  and 
dignity  of  my  present  office  did  not  permit  me  any 
such  distractions. 

After  we  had  rested  a  while  I  gave  the  sign  to 


HOMELESS  91 


start.  We  had  to  find  a  place  somewhere  to  lie 
down  for  the  night  and  gain  a  few  sous  for  our  food 
for  the  next  day.  We  walked  for  one  hour,  then 
came  in  sight  of  a  Tillage.  I  quickly  dressed  my 
troop,  and  in  as  good  marching  order  as  possible  we 
made  our  entry.  Unfortunately,  we  had  no  fife  and 
we  lacked  Vitalis'  fine,  commanding  presence. 
Like  a  drum  major,  he  always  attracted  the  eye.  I 
had  not  the  advantage  of  being  tall,  nor  was  I  pos- 
sessed of  a  wonderful  head.  Quite  the  reverse,  I 
was  small  and  thin  and  I  must  have  worn  a  very 
anxious  look.  While  marching  I  glanced  to  the 
right  and  to  the  left  to  see  what  effect  we  were 
producing.  Very  little,  I  regret  to  say.  No  one 
followed  us.  Upon  reaching  the  small  square 
upon  which  was  a  fountain  shaded  with  trees,  I 
took  my  harp  and  commenced  to  play  a  waltz. 
The  music  was  gay,  my  fingers  were  light,  but  my 
heart  was  heavy. 

I  told  Zerbino  and  Dulcie  to  waltz  together. 
They  obeyed  me  at  once  and  commenced  to  whirl 
round,  keeping  time.  But  no  one  put  themselves 
out  to  come  aud  see  us,  and  yet  in  the  doorways 
I  saw  several  women  knitting  and  talking.  I  con- 
tinued to  play,  Zerbino  and  Dulcie  went  on  with 
their  waltz.  Perhaps  if  one  decided  to  come  over 
to  us,  a  second  would  come,  then  more  and  more. 

I  played  on  and  on,  Zerbino  and  Dulcie  went 
round  and  round,  but  the  women  in  the  doorways 
did  not  even  look  over  at  us.  It  was  discouraging. 
But  I  was  determined  not  to  be  discouraged.  I 


92 NOBODY'S  BOY 

played  with  all  my  might,  making  the  cords  of 
my  harp  vibrate,  almost  to  breaking  them.  Sud- 
denly a  little  child,  taking  its  first  steps,  trotted 
from  his  home  and  came  towards  us.  No  doubt 
the  mother  would  follow  him,  and  after  the  mother 
a  friend  would  come,  and  we  should  have  an  audi- 
ence, and  then  a  little  money. 

I  played  more  softly  so  as  not  to  frighten  the 
baby,  and  also  to  entice  him  to  come  nearer.  With 
hands  held  out  and  swaying  first  on  one  foot,  then 
on  the  other,  he  came  on  slowly.  A  few  steps  more 
and  he  would  have  reached  us,  but  at  that  moment 
the  mother  looked  round.  She  saw  her  baby  at 
once.  But  instead  of  running  after  him  as  I  had 
thought  she  would,  she  called  to  him,  and  the  child 
obediently  turned  round  and  went  back  to  her. 
Perhaps  these  people  did  not  like  dance  music;  it 
was  quite  possible. 

I  told  Zerbino  and  Dulcie  to  lie  down,  and  I 
began  to  sing  my  canzonetta.  Never  did  I  try  so 
hard  to  please. 

I  had  reached  the  end  of  the  second  line,  when  I 
saw  a  man  in  a  round  jacket,  and  I  felt  that  he  was 
coming  towards  me.  At  last!  I  tried  to  sing 
with  even  more  fervor. 

"  Hello,  what  are  you  doing  here,  young  rogue?  " 
he  cried. 

I  stopped,  amazed  at  his  words,  and  watched 
him  coming  nearer,  with  my  mouth  open. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  I  say?  " 

"  Singing,  sir." 


HOMELESS  93 


"  Have  you  got  permission  to  sing  on  a  public 
square  in  our  village?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"Well,  be  off;  if  you  don't  I'll  have  you  ar- 
rested." 

"  But,  sir  .  .  ." 

"  Be  off,  you  little  beggar." 

I  knew  from  my  poor  master's  example  what  it 
would  cost  me  if  I  went  against  the  town  au- 
thorities. I  did  not  make  him  repeat  his  order;  I 
hurried  off. 

Beggar !  That  was  not  fair.  I  had  not  begged ; 
I  had  sung.  In  five  minutes  I  had  left  behind  me 
this  inhospitable,  but  well  guarded,  village.  My 
dogs  followed  me  with  their  heads  lowered,  and 
their  tails  between  their  legs.  They  certainly 
knew  that  some  bad  luck  had  befallen  us.  Capi, 
from  time  to  time,  went  ahead  of  us  and  turned 
round  to  look  at  me  questioningly  with  his  intel- 
ligent eyes.  Any  one  else  in  his  place  would  have 
questioned  me,  but  Capi  was  too  well  bred  to  be 
indiscreet.  I  saw  his  lip  tremble  in  the  effort  lie 
made  to  keep  back  his  protests. 

When  we  were  far  enough  away  from  the  vil- 
lage, I  signed  to  them  to  stop,  and  the  three  dogs 
made  a  circle  round  me,  Capi  in  the  middle,  his 
eyes  on  mine. 

"  As  we  had  no  permission  to  play,  they  sent  us 
away,"  I  explained. 

"Well,  then?"  asked  Capi,  with  a  wag  of  his 
head. 


94 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  So  then  we  shall  have  to  sleep  in  the  open  air 
and  go  without  supper." 

At  the  word  "  supper  "  there  was  a  general  bark. 
I  showed  them  my  three  sous. 

"  You  know  that  is  all  we  have.  If  we  spend 
those  three  sous  to-night,  we  shall  have  nothing  left 
for  breakfast  to-morrow.  So,  as  we  have  had 
something  to-day,  it  is  better  to  save  this."  And  I 
put  my  three  sous  back  in  my  pocket. 

Capi  and  Dulcie  bent  their  heads  resignedly,  but 
Zerbino,  who  was  not  so  good,  and  who  besides  was 
a  gourmand,  continued  to  growl.  I  looked  at  him 
severely. 

"  Capi,  explain  to  Zerbino,  he  doesn't  seem  to 
understand,"  I  said  to  faithful  Capitano. 

Capi  at  once  tapped  Zerbino  with  his  paw.  It 
seemed  as  though  an  argument  was  taking  place 
between  the  two  dogs.  One  may  find  the  word  ar- 
gument too  much,  when  applied  to  dogs,  but  ani- 
mals certainly  have  a  peculiar  language  of  their 
kind.  As  to  dogs,  they  not  only  know  how  to 
speak,  they  know  how  to  read.  Look  at  them  with 
their  noses  in  the  air  or,  with  lowered  head,  snif- 
fing at  the  ground,  smelling  the  bushes  and  stones. 
Suddenly  they'll  stop  before  a  clump  of  grass,  or  a 
wall,  and  remain  on  the  alert  for  a  moment.  We 
see  nothing  on  the  wall,  but  the  dog  reads  all  sorts 
of  curious  things  written  in  mysterious  letters 
which  we  do  not  understand. 

What  Capi  said  to  Zerbino  I  did  not  hear,  for  if 
dogs  can  understand  the  language  of  men,  men  do 


HOMELESS  95 


not  understand  their  language.  I  only  saw  that 
Zerbino  refused  to  listen  to  reason,  and  that  he 
insisted  that  the  three  sous  should  be  spent  im- 
mediately. Capi  got  angry,  and  it  was  only  when 
he  showed  his  teeth  that  Zerbino,  who  was  a  bit  of 
a  coward,  lapsed  into  silence.  The  word  "  si- 
lence "  is  also  used  advisedly.  I  mean  by  silence 
that  he  laid  down. 

The  weather  was  beautiful,  so  that  to  sleep  in 
the  open  air  was  not  a  serious  matter.  The  only 
thing  was  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the  wolves, 
if  there  were  any  in  this  part  of  the  country. 

We  walked  straight  ahead  on  the  white  road 
until  we  found  a  place.  We  had  reached  a 
wood.  Here  and  there  were  great  blocks  of  gran- 
ite. The  place  was  very  mournful  and  lonely,  but 
there  was  no  better,  and  I  thought  that  we  might 
find  shelter  from  the  damp  night  air  amongst  the 
granite.  When  I  say  "  we,"  I  mean  Pretty-Heart 
and  myself,  for  the  dogs  would  not  catch  cold 
sleeping  out  of  doors.  I  had  to  be  careful  of  my- 
self, for  I  knew  how  heavy  was  my  responsibility. 
What  would  become  of  us  all  if  I  fell  ill,  and  what 
would  become  of  me  if  I  had  Pretty-Heart  to  nurse? 

We  found  a  sort  of  grotto  between  the  stones, 
strewn  with  dried  leaves.  This  was  very  nice. 
All  that  was  lacking  was  something  to  eat.  I  tried 
not  to  think  that  we  were  hungry.  Does  not  the 
proverb  say,  "  He  who  sleeps,  eats." 

Before  lying  down  I  told  Capi  that  I  relied  upon 
him  to  keep  watch,  and  the  faithful  dog,  instead  of 


96  NOBODY'S  BOY 

sleeping  with  us  on  the  pine  leaves,  laid  down  like 
a  sentinel  at  the  entrance  of  our  quarters.  I  could 
sleep  in  peace,  for  I  knew  that  none  would  come 
near  without  me  being  warned  by  Capi.  Yet,  al- 
though at  rest  on  this  point,  I  could  not  sleep  at 
once.  Pretty-Heart  was  asleep  beside  me,  wrapped 
up  in  my  coat;  Zerbino  and  Dulcie  were  stretched 
at  my  feet.  But  my  anxiety  was  greater  than  my 
fatigue. 

This  first  day  had  been  bad;  what  would  the 
next  day  be?  I  was  hungry  and  thirsty,  and  yet 
I  only  had  three  sous.  How  could  I  buy  food  for 
all  if  I  did  not  earn  something  the  next  day?  And 
the  muzzles?  And  the  permission  to  sing?  Oh, 
what  was  to  be  done!  Perhaps  we  should  all  die 
of  hunger  in  the  bushes.  While  turning  over  these 
questions  in  my  mind,  I  looked  up  at  the  stars, 
which  shone  in  the  dark  sky.  There  was  not  a 
breath  of  wind.  Silence  everywhere.  Not  the 
rustle  of  a  leaf  or  the  cry  of  a  bird,  nor  the  rumble 
of  a  cart  on  the  road.  As  far  as  my  eye  could  see, 
stretched  space.  How  alone  we  were;  how  aban- 
doned! The  tears  filled  my  eyes.  Poor  Mother 
Barberin!  poor  Vitalis. 

I  was  lying  on  my  stomach,  crying  into  my 
hands,  when  suddenly  I  felt  a  breath  pass  through 
my  hair.  I  turned  over  quickly,  and  a  big  soft 
tongue  licked  my  wet  cheek.  It  was  Capi  who  had 
heard  me  crying  and  had  come  to  comfort  me  as  he 
had  done  pn  the  first  day  of  my  wanderings.  With 
my  two  hands  I  took  him  by  the  neck  and  kissed 


HOMELESS  97 


him  on  his  wet  nose.  He  uttered  two  or  three  lit- 
tle mournful  snorts,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  he 
was  crying  with  me.  I  slept.  When  I  awoke  it 
was  full  day  and  Capi  was  sitting  beside  me,  look- 
ing at  me.  The  birds  were  singing  in  the  trees. 
In  the  distance  I  could  hear  a  church  bell  ringing, 
the  Angelus,  the  morning  prayer.  The  sun  was 
already  high  in  the  sky,  throwing  its  bright  rays 
down  to  comfort  heart  and  body. 

We  started  off,  going  in  the  direction  of  the 
village  where  we  should  surely  find  a  baker :  when 
one  goes  to  bed  without  dinner  or  supper  one  is 
hungry  early  in  the  morning.  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  spend  the  three  sous,  and  after  that  we  would 
see  what  would  happen. 

Upon  arriving  in  the  village  there  was  no  need 
for  me  to  ask  where  the  baker  lived;  our  noses 
guided  HS  straight  to  the  shop.  My  sense  of  smell 
was  now  as  keen  as  that  of  my  dogs.  From  the 
distance  I  sniffed  the  delicious  odor  of  hot  bread. 
We  could  not  get  much  for  three  sous,  when  it  costs 
five  sous  a  pound.  Each  of  us  had  but  a  little 
piece,  so  our  breakfast  was  soon  over. 

We  had  to  make  money  that  day.  I  walked 
through  the  village  to  find  a  favorable  place  for  a 
performance,  and  also  to  note  the  expressions  of 
the  people,  to  try  and  guess  if  they  were  enemies  or 
friends.  My  intention  was  not  to  give  the  per- 
formance at  once.  It  was  too  early,  but  after  find- 
ing a  place  we  would  come  back  in  the  middle  of 
the  day  and  take  a  chance. 


98 NOBODY'S  BOY 

I  was  engrossed  with  this  idea,  when  suddenly  I 
heard  some  one  shouting  behind  me.  I  turned 
round  quickly  and  saw  Zerbino  racing  towards  me, 
followed  by  an  old  woman.  It  did  not  take  me 
long  to  know  what  was  the  matter.  Profiting  by 
my  preoccupation,  Zerbino  had  run  into  a  house 
and  stolen  a  piece  of  meat.  He  was  racing  alone, 
carrying  his  booty  in  his  jaws. 

"Thief!  thief!"  cried  the  old  woman;  "catch 
him!  Catch  all  of  'em!" 

When  I  heard  her  say  this,  I  felt  that  somehow 
I  was  guilty,  or  at  least,  that  I  was  responsible 
for  Zerbino's  crime,  so  I  began  to  run.  What 
could  I  say  to  the  old  woman  if  she  demanded  the 
price  of  the  stolen  meat?  How  could  I  pay  her? 
If  we  were  arrested  they  would  put  us  in  prison. 
Seeing  me  flying  down  the  road,  Dulcie  and  Capi 
were  not  long  following  my  example;  they  were  at 
my  heels,  while  Pretty-Heart,  whom  I  carried  on 
my  shoulder,  clung  round  my  neck  so  as  not  to  fall. 

Some  one  else  cried :  "  Stop  thief !  "  and  others 
joined  in  the  chase.  But  we  raced  on.  Fear  gave 
us  speed.  I  never  saw  Dulcie  run  so  fast ;  her  feet 
barely  touched  the  ground.  Down  a  side  street 
and  across  a  field  we  went,  and  soon  we  had  out- 
stripped our  pursuers,  but  I  did  not  stop  running 
until  I  was  quite  out  of  breath.  We  had  raced  at 
least  two  miles.  I  turned  round.  No  one  was  fol- 
lowing us.  Capi  and  Dulcie  were  still  at  my  heels, 
Zerbino  was  in  the  distance.  He  had  stopped  prob- 
ably to  eat  his  piece  of  meat.  I  called  him,  but 


HOMELESS  99 


he  knew  very  well  that  he  deserved  a  severe  punish- 
ment, so  instead  of  coming  to  me,  he  ran  away  as 
fast  as  he  could.  He  was  famished,  that  was  why 
he  had  stolen  the  meat.  But  I  could  not  accept 
this  as  an  excuse.  He  had  stolen.  If  I  wanted 
to  preserve  discipline  in  my  troop,  the  guilty  one 
must  be  punished.  If  not,  in  the  next  village  Dul- 
cie  would  do  the  same,  and  then  Capi  would  suc- 
cumb to  the  temptation.  I  should  have  to  punish 
Zerbino  publicly.  But  in  order  to  do  that  I 
should  have  to  catch  him,  and  that  was  not  an  easy 
thing  to  do. 

I  turned  to  Capi. 

"  Go  and  find  Zerbino,"  I  said  gravely. 

He  started  off  at  once  to  do  what  I  told  him,  but 
it  seemed  to  me  that  he  went  with  less  ardor  than 
usual.  From  the  look  that  he  gave  me,  I  saw  that 
he  would  far  rather  champion  Zerbino  than  be  my 
envoy.  I  sat  down  to  await  his  return  with  the 
prisoner.  I  was  pleased  to  get  a  rest  after  our 
mad  race.  When  we  stopped  running  we  had 
reached  the  bank  of  a  canal  with  shady  trees  and 
fields  on  either  side. 

An  hour  passed.  The  dogs  had  not  returned.  I 
was  beginning  to  feel  anxious  when  at  last  Capi 
appeared  alone,  his  head  hanging  down. 

"  Where  is  Zerbino?  " 

Capi  laid  down  in  a  cowed  attitude.  I  looked 
at  him  and  noticed  that  one  of  his  ears  was  bleed- 
ing. I  knew  what  had  happened.  Zerbino  had 
put  up  a  fight.  I  felt  that,  although  Capi  had 


100 NOBODY'S  BOY 

obeyed  my  orders,  he  had  considered  that  I  was  too 
severe  and  had  let  himself  be  beaten.  I  could  not 
scold  him.  I  could  only  wait  until  Zerbino  chose 
to  return.  I  knew  that  sooner  or  later  he  would 
feel  sorry  and  would  come  back  and  take  his 
punishment. 

I  stretched  myself  out  under  a  tree,  holding 
Pretty-Heart  tight  for  fear  he  should  take  it  into 
his  head  to  join  Zerbino.  Dulcie  and  Capi  slept  at 
my  feet.  Time  passed.  Zerbino  did  not  appear. 
At  last  I  also  dropped  off  to  sleep. 

Several  hours  had  passed  when  I  awoke.  By 
the  sun  I  could  tell  that  it  was  getting  late,  but 
there  was  no  need  for  the  sun  to  tell  me  that. 
My  stomach  cried  out  that  it  was  a  long  time  since 
I  had  eaten  that  piece  of  bread.  And  I  could  tell 
from  the  looks  of  the  two  dogs  and  Pretty-Heart 
that  they  were  famished.  Capi  and  Dulcie  fixed 
their  eyes  on  me  piteously;  Pretty-Heart  made 
grimaces.  But  still  Zerbino  had  not  come  back. 
I  called  to  him,  I  whistled,  but  in  vain.  Having 
well  lunched  he  wras  probably  digesting  his  meal, 
cuddled  up  in  a  bush. 

The  situation  was  becoming  serious.  If  I  left 
this  spot,  Zerbino  perhaps  would  get  lost,  for  he 
might  not  be  able  to  find  us ;  then  if  I  stayed,  there 
was  no  chance  of  me  making  a  little  money  to  buy 
something  to  eat.  Our  hunger  became  more  acute. 
The  dogs  fixed  their  eyes  on  me  imploringly,  and 
Pretty-Heart  rubbed  his  stomach  and  squealed  an- 
grily. 


HOMELESS  101 


Still  Zerbino  did  not  return.  Once  more  I  sent 
Capi  to  look  for  the  truant,  but  at  the  end  of  half 
an  hour  he  came  back  alone.  What  was  to  be 
done? 

Although  Zerbino  was  guilty,  and  through  his 
fault  we  were  put  into  this  terrible  position,  I 
could  not  forsake  him.  What  would  my  master 
say  if  I  did  not  take  his  three  dogs  back  to  him? 
And  then,  in  spite  of  all,  I  loved  Zerbino,  the  rogue ! 
I  decided  to  wait  until  evening,  but  it  was  impos- 
sible to  remain  inactive.  If  we  were  doing  some- 
thing I  thought  we  might  not  feel  the  pangs  of 
hunger  so  keenly.  If  I  could  invent  something  to 
distract  us,  we  might,  for  the  time  being,  forget 
that  we  were  so  famished.  What  could  we  do? 

I  pondered  over  the  question.  Then  I  remem- 
bered that  Vitalis  had  told  me  that  when  a  regi- 
ment was  tired  out  by  a  long  march,  the  band 
played  the  gayest  airs  so  that  the  soldiers  should 
forget  their  fatigue.  If  I  played  some  gay  pieces 
on  my  harp,  perhaps  we  could  forget  our  hunger. 
We  were  all  so  faint  and  sick,  yet  if  I  played  some- 
thing lively  and  made  the  two  poor  dogs  dance 
with  Pretty-Heart  the  time  might  pass  quicker. 
I  took  my  instrument,  which  I  had  placed  up 
against  a  tree  and,  turning  my  back  to  the  canal, 
I  put  my  animals  in  position  and  began  to  play  a 
dance. 

At  first  neither  the  dogs  nor  the  monkey  seemed 
disposed  to  dance.  All  they  wanted  was  food. 
My  heart  ached  as  I  watched  their  pitiful  attitude. 


102 NOBODY'S  BOY 

But  they  must  forget  their  hunger,  poor  little 
things!  I  played  louder  and  quicker,  then,  little 
by  little,  the  music  produced  its  customary  effect. 
They  danced  and  I  played  on  and  on. 

Suddenly  I  heard  a  clear  voice,  a  child's  voice, 
call  out :  "  Bravo."  The  voice  came  from  behind 
me.  I  turned  round  quickly. 

A  barge  had  stopped  on  the  canal.  The  two 
horses  which  dragged  the  boat  were  standing  on 
the  opposite  bank.  It  was  a  strange  barge.  I  had 
never  seen  one  like  it.  It  was  much  shorter  than 
the  other  boats  on  the  canal,  and  the  deck  was 
fashioned  like  a  beautiful  veranda,  covered  with 
plants  and  foliage.  I  could  see  two  people,  a  lady, 
who  was  still  young,  with  a  beautiful  sad  face,  and 
a  boy  about  my  own  age,  who  seemed  to  be  lying 
down.  It  was  evidently  the  little  boy  who  had 
called  out  "  Bravo !  " 

I  was  very  surprised  at  seeing  them.  I  lifted  my 
hat  to  thank  them  for  their  applause. 

"  Are  you  playing  for  your  own  pleasure? " 
asked  the  lady,  speaking  French  with  a  foreign  ac- 
cent. 

"  I  am  keeping  the  dogs  in  practice  and  also  .  .  . 
it  diverts  their  attention." 

The  child  said  something.  The  lady  bent  over 
him. 

"Will  you  play  again?"  she  then  asked,  turn- 
ing round  to  me. 

Would  I  play?    Play  for  an  audience  who  had 


HOMELESS  103 


arrived  at  such  a  moment!  I  did  not  wait  to  be 
asked  twice. 

"  Would  you  like  a  dance  or  a  little  comedy?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Oh,  a  comedy,"  cried  the  child.  But  the  lady 
said  she  preferred  a  dance. 

"A  dance  is  too  short,"  said  the  boy. 

"  If  the  '  distinguished  audience '  wishes,  after 
the  dance,  we  will  perform  our  different  r61es." 

This  was  one  of  my  master's  fine  phrases.  I 
tried  to  say  it  in  the  same  grand  manner  as  he. 
Upon  second  thought,  I  was  not  sorry  that  the 
lady  did  not  wish  for  a  comedy,  for  I  don't  see  how 
I  could  have  given  a  performance;  not  only  was 
Zerbino  absent,  but  I  had  none  of  the  "  stage  fit- 
tings "  with  me. 

I  played  the  first  bars  of  a  waltz.  Capi  took 
Dulcie  by  the  waist  with  his  two  paws  and  they 
whirled  round,  keeping  good  time.  Then  Pretty- 
Heart  danced  alone.  Successively,  we  went 
through  all  our  repertoire.  We  did  not  feel  tired 
now.  The  poor  little  creatures  knew  that  they 
would  be  repaid  with  a  meal  and  they  did  their 
best.  I  also. 

Then,  suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  a  dance  in  which 
all  were  taking  part,  Zerbino  came  out  from  be- 
hind a  bush,  and  as  Capi  and  Dulcie  and  Pretty- 
Heart  passed  near  him,  he  boldly  took  his  place 
amongst  them. 

While  playing  and  watching  my  actors,  I  glanced 


104 NOBODY'S  BOY 

from  time  to  time  at  the  little  boy.  He  seemed  to 
take  great  pleasure  in  what  we  were  doing,  but  he 
did  not  move.  He  looked  as  though  he  was  lying 
on  a  stretcher.  The  boat  had  drifted  right  to  the 
edge  of  the  bank,  and  now  I  could  see  the  boy 
plainly.  He  had  fair  hair.  His  face  was  pale,  so 
white  that  one  could  see  the  blue  veins  on  his  fore- 
head. He  had  the  drawn  face  of  a  sick  child. 

"  How  much  do  you  charge  for  seats  at  your  per- 
formance? "  asked  the  lady. 

"  You  pay  according  to  the  pleasure  we  have 
given  you." 

"Then,  Mamma,  you  must  pay  a  lot,"  said  the 
child.  He  added  something  in  a  language  that  I 
did  not  understand. 

"  My  son  would  like  to  see  your  actors  nearer." 

I  made  a  sign  to  Capi.  With  delight,  he  sprang 
onto  the  boat. 

"  And  the  others ! "  cried  the  little  boy. 

Zerbino  and  Dulcie  followed  Capi's  example. 

"  And  the  monkey !  " 

Pretty-Heart  could  have  easily  made  the  jump, 
but  I  was  never  sure  of  him.  Once  on  board  he 
might  do  some  tricks  that  certainly  would  not  be 
to  the  lady's  taste. 

"Is  he  spiteful?"  she  asked. 

"  No,  madam,  but  he  is  not  always  obedient,  and 
I  am  afraid  that  he  will  not  behave  himself." 

"  Well,  bring  him  on  yourself." 

She  signed  to  a  man  who  stood  near  the  rail. 
He  came  forward  and  threw  a  plank  across  to  the 


HOMELESS  105 


bank.  With  my  harp  on  my  shoulder  and  Pretty- 
Heart  in  my  arms  I  stepped  up  the  plank. 

"  The  monkey !  the  monkey ! "  cried  the  little  boy, 
whom  the  lady  addressed  as  Arthur. 

I  went  up  to  him  and,  while  he  stroked  and 
petted  Pretty-Heart,  I  watched  him.  He  was 
strapped  to  a  board. 

"  Have  you  a  father,  my  child?  "  asked  the  lady. 

"Yes,  but  I  am  alone  just  now." 

"  For  long?  » 

"  For  two  months." 

"  Two  months !  Oh,  poor  little  boy.  At  your 
age  how  is  it  that  you  happen  to  be  left  all  alone?  " 

"  It  has  to  be,  madam." 

"  Does  your  father  make  you  take  him  a  sum  of 
money  at  the  end  of  two  months?  Is  that  it?  " 

"  No,  madam,  he  does  not  force  me  to  do  any- 
thing. If  I  can  make  enough  to  live  with  my 
animals,  that  is  all." 

"  And  do  you  manage  to  get  enough?  " 

I  hesitated  before  replying.  I  felt  a  kind  of  awe, 
a  reverence  for  this  beautiful  lady.  Yet  she 
talked  to  me  so  kindly  and  her  voice  was  so  sweet, 
that  I  decided  to  tell  her  the  truth.  There  was  no 
reason  why  I  should  not.  Then  I  told  her  how  Vi- 
talis  and  I  had  been  parted,  that  he  had  gone  to 
prison  because  he  had  defended  me,  and  how  since 
he  had  gone  I  had  been  unable  to  make  any  money. 

While  I  was  talking,  Arthur  was  playing  with 
the  dogs,  but  he  was  listening  to  what  I  said. 

"  Then  how  hungry  you  all  must  be !  "  he  cried. 


106 NOBODY'S  BOY 

At  this  word,  which  the  animals  well  knew,  the 
dogs  began  to  bark  and  Pretty-Heart  rubbed  his 
stomach  vigorously. 

"  Oh,  Mamma!  "  cried  Arthur. 

The  lady  said  a  few  words  in  a  strange  language 
to  a  woman,  whose  head  I  could  see  through  a  half 
open  door.  Almost  immediately  the  woman  ap- 
peared with  some  food. 

"  Sit  down,  my  child,"  said  the  lady. 

I  did  so  at  once.  Putting  my  harp  aside  I 
quickly  sat  down  in  the  chair  at  the  table ;  the  dogs 
grouped  themselves  around  ma  Pretty-Heart 
jumped  on  my  knee. 

"  Do  your  dogs  eat  bread?  "  asked  Arthur. 

«  Do  they  eat  bread ! " 

I  gave  them  a  piece  which  they  devoured  raven- 
ously. 

"And  the  monkey?"  said  Arthur. 

But  there  was  no  occasion  to  worry  about  Pretty- 
Heart,  for  while  I  was  serving  the  dogs  he  had 
taken  a  piece  of  crust  from  a  meat  pie  and  was  al- 
most choking  himself  underneath  the  table.  I 
helped  myself  to  the  pie  and,  if  I  did  not  choke  like 
Pretty-Heart,  I  gobbled  it  up  no  less  gluttonously 
than  he. 

"  Poor,  poor  child !  "  said  the  lady. 

Arthur  said  nothing,  but  he  looked  at  us  with 
wide  open  eyes,  certainly  amazed  at  our  appetites, 
for  we  were  all  as  famished  as  one  another,  even 
Zerbino,  who  should  have  been  somewhat  appeased 
by  the  meat  that  he  had  stolen. 


HOMELESS  107 


"What  would  you  have  eaten  to-night  if  you 
had  not  met  us?  "  asked  Arthur. 

"  I  don't  think  we  should  have  eaten  at  all." 

"  And  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  to-morrow  we  should  have  had  the 
luck  to  meet  some  one  like  we  have  to-day." 

Arthur  then  turned  to  his  mother.  For  some 
minutes  they  spoke  together  in  a  foreign  language. 
He  seemed  to  be  asking  for  something  which  at 
first  she  seemed  not  quite  willing  to  grant.  Then, 
suddenly,  the  boy  turned  his  head.  His  body  did 
not  move. 

"  Would  you  like  to  stay  with  us?  "  he  asked. 

I  looked  at  him  without  replying ;  I  was  so  taken 
back  by  the  question. 

"  My  son  wants  to  know  if  you  would  like  to  stay 
with  us?  "  repeated  the  lady. 

"  On  this  boat?  " 

"  Yes,  my  little  boy  is  ill  and  he  is  obliged  to  be 
strapped  to  this  board.  So  that  the  days  will  pass 
more  pleasantly  for  him,  I  take  him  about  in  this 
boat.  While  your  master  is  in  prison,  if  you  like, 
you  may  stay  here  with  us.  Your  dogs  and  your 
monkey  can  give  a  performance  every  day,  and 
Arthur  and  I  will  be  the  audience.  You  can  play 
your  harp  for  us.  You  will  be  doing  us  a  service 
and  we,  on  our  side,  may  be  useful  to  you." 

To  live  on  a  boat !  What  a  kind  lady.  I  did  not 
know  what  to  say.  I  took  her  hand  and  kissed 
it. 

"  Poor  little  boy !  "  she  said,  almost  tenderly. 


108 NOBODY'S  BOY 

She  had  said  she  would  like  me  to  play  my  harp : 
this  simple  pleasure  I  would  give  her  at  once.  I 
wanted  to  show  how  grateful  I  was.  I  took  my  in- 
strument and,  going  to  the  end  of  the  boat,  I  com- 
menced to  play  softly.  The  lady  put  a  little  silver 
whistle  to  her  lips  and  blew  it. 

I  stopped  playing,  wondering  why  she  had 
whistled.  Was  it  to  tell  me  that  I  was  playing 
badly,  or  to  ask  me  to  stop?  Arthur,  who  saw 
everything  that  passed  around  him,  noticed  my  un- 
easiness. 

"  My  mamma  blew  the  whistle  for  the  horses  to 
go  on,"  he  said. 

That  was  so;  the  barge,  towed  by  the  horses, 
glided  over  the  soft  waters  which  lapped  gently 
against  the  keel;  on  either  side  were  trees  and  be- 
hind us  fell  the  oblique  rays  from  the  setting  sun. 

"  Will  you  play?  "  asked  Arthur. 

He  beckoned  to  his  mother.  She  sat  down  be- 
side him.  He  took  her  hand  and  kept  it  in  his, 
and  I  played  to  them  all  the  pieces  that  my  master 
had  taught  me. 


CHAPTER  XI 

ANOTHER  BOY'S  MOTHER 

ARTHUR'S  mother  was  English.  Her  name 
was  Mrs.  Milligan.  She  was  a  widow,  and 
Arthur  was  her  only  son ;  at  least,  it  was  supposed 
that  he  was  her  only  son  living,  for  she  had  lost  an 
elder  child  under  mysterious  conditions.  When 
the  child  was  six  months  old  it  had  been  kid- 
naped, and  they  had  never  been  able  to  find  any 
trace  of  him.  It  is  true  that,  at  the  time  he  was 
taken,  Mrs.  Milligan  had  not  been  able  to  make 
the  necessary  searches.  Her  husband  was  dying, 
and  she  herself  was  dangerously  ill  and  knew  noth- 
ing of  what  was  going  on  around  her.  When  she 
regained  consciousness  her  husband  was  dead  and 
her  baby  had  disappeared.  Her  brother-in-law, 
Mr.  James  Milligan,  had  searched  everywhere  for 
the  child.  There  being  no  heir,  he  expected  to  in- 
herit his  brother's  property.  Yet,  after  all,  Mr. 
James  Milligan  inherited  nothing  from  his 
brother,  for  seven  months  after  the  death  of  her 
husband,  Mrs.  Milligan's  second  son,  Arthur,  was 
born. 

But  the  doctors  said  that  this  frail,  delicate  child 
could  not  live,    He  might  die  at  any  moment.    lu 

109 


110  NOBODY'S  BOY 

the  event  of  his  death,  Mr.  James  Milligan  would 
succeed  to  the  fortune.  He  waited  and  hoped,  but 
the  doctors'  predictions  were  not  fulfilled.  Arthur 
lived.  It  was  his  mother's  care  that  saved  him. 
When  he  had  to  be  strapped  to  a  board,  she  could 
not  bear  the  thought  of  her  son  being  closed  up  in 
a  house,  so  she  had  a  beautiful  barge  built  for  him, 
and  was  now  traveling  through  France  on  the  va- 
rious canals. 

Naturally,  it  was  not  the  first  day  that  I  learned 
all  this  about  the  English  lady  and  her  son.  I 
learned  these  details  little  by  little,  while  I  was 
with  her. 

I  was  given  a  tiny  cabin  on  the  boat.  What  a 
wonderful  little  room  it  appeared  to  me!  Every- 
thing was  spotless.  The  only  article  of  furniture 
that  the  cabin  contained  was  a  bureau,  but  what  a 
bureau:  bed,  mattress,  pillows,  and  covers  com- 
bined. And  attached  to  the  bed  were  drawers  con- 
taining brushes,  combs,  etc.  There  was  no  table 
or  chairs,  at  least  not  in  their  usual  shape,  but 
against  the  wall  was  a  plank,  which  when  pulled 
down  was  found  to  be  a  little  square  table  and 
chair.  How  pleased  I  was  to  get  into  that  little 
bed.  It  was  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I  had 
felt  soft  sheets  against  my  face.  Mother  Bar- 
berin's  were  very  hard  and  they  used  to  rub  my 
cheeks,  and  Vitalis  and  I  had  more  often  slept  with- 
out sheets,  and  those  at  the  cheap  lodging  houses 
at  which  we  stayed  were  just  as  rough  as  Mother 
Barberin's. 


I  woke  early,  for  I  wanted  to  know  how  my  ani- 
mals had  passed  the  night.  I  found  them  all  at 
the  place  where  I  had  installed  them  the  night  be- 
fore, and  sleeping  as  though  the  beautiful  barge 
had  been  their  home  for  several  months.  The  dogs 
jumped  up  as  I  approached,  but  Pretty-Heart,  al- 
though he  had  one  eye  half  open,  did  not  move; 
instead  he  commenced  to  snore  like  a  trombone. 

I  guessed  at  once  what  was  the  matter :  Pretty- 
Heart  was  very  sensitive ;  he  got  angry  very  quickly 
and  sulked  for  a  long  time.  In  the  present  cir- 
cumstances he  was  annoyed  because  I  had  not  taken 
him  into  my  cabin,  and  he  showed  his  displeasure 
by  pretending  to  be  asleep. 

I  could  not  explain  to  him  why  I  had  been 
forced  to  leave  him  on  deck,  and  as  I  felt  that  I 
had,  at  least  in  appearances,  done  him  an  injury, 
I  took  him  in  my  arms  and  cuddled  him,  to  show 
him  that  I  was  sorry.  At  first  he  continued  to 
sulk,  but  soon,  with  his  changeable  temper,  he 
thought  of  something  else,  and  by  his  signs  made 
me  understand  that  if  I  would  take  him  for  a  walk 
on  land  he  would  perhaps  forgive  me.  The  man 
who  was  cleaning  the  deck  was  willing  to  throw  the 
plank  across  for  us,  and  I  went  off  into  the  fields 
with  my  troop. 

The  time  passed,  playing  with  the  dogs  and  chas- 
ing Pretty-Heart;  when  we  returned  the  horses 
were  harnessed  and  the  barge  in  readiness  to  start. 
As  soon  as  we  were  all  on  the  boat  the  horses  began 
to  trot  along  the  towing  path ;  we  glided  over  the 


112 NOBODY'S  BOY 

water  without  feeling  a  movement,  and  the  only 
sound  to  be  heard  was  the  song  of  the  birds,  the 
swish  of  the  water  against  the  boat,  and  the  tinkle 
of  bells  around  the  horses'  necks. 

Here  and  there  the  water  seemed  quite  black, 
as  though  it  was  of  great  depth;  in  other  parts  it 
was  as  clear  as  crystal  and  we  could  see  the  shiny 
pebbles  and  velvety  grass  below. 

I  was  gazing  down  into  the  water  when  I  heard 
some  one  call  my  name.  It  was  Arthur.  He  was 
being  carried  out  on  his  board. 

"  Did  you  sleep  well?  "  he  asked,  "  better  than  in 
the  field?  " 

I  told  him  that  I  had,  after  I  had  politely  spoken 
to  Mrs.  Milligan. 

"And  the  dogs?"  asked  Arthur. 

I  called  to  them;  they  came  running  up  with 
Pretty-Heart;  the  latter  making  grimaces  as  he 
usually  did  when  he  thought  that  we  were  going 
to  give  a  performance. 

Mrs.  Milligan  had  placed  her  son  in  the  shade 
and  had  taken  a  seat  beside  him. 

"  Now,"  she  said  to  me,  "  you  must  take  the  dogs 
and  the  monkey  away ;  we  are  going  to  work." 

I  went  with  the  animals  to  the  front  of  the  boat. 

What  work  could  that  poor  little  boy  do? 

I  looked  round  and  saw  that  his  mother  was 
making  him  repeat  a  lesson  from  a  book  she  held 
in  her  hand.  He  seemed  to  be  having  great  diffi- 
culty in  mastering  it,  but  his  mother  was  very  pa- 
tient. 


ANOTHER  BOY'S  MOTHER     113 

"  No,"  she  said  at  last,  "  Arthur,  you  don't  know 
it  at  all." 

"  I  can't,  Mamma,  I  just  can't,"  he  said,  plain- 
tively. "  I'm  sick." 

"  Your  head  is  not  sick.  I  can't  allow  you  to 
grow  up  in  utter  ignorance  because  you're  an  in- 
valid, Arthur." 

That  seemed  very  severe  to  me,  yet  she  spoke  in 
a  sweet,  kind  way. 

"  Why  do  you  make  me  so  unhappy?  You  know 
how  I  feel  when  you  won't  learn." 

"I  cannot,  Mamma;  I  cannot."  And  he  began 
to  cry. 

But  Mrs.  Milligan  did  not  let  herself  be  won 
over  by  his  tears,  although  she  appeared  touched 
and  even  more  unhappy. 

"  I  would  have  liked  to  have  let  you  play  this 
morning  with  Remi  and  the  dogs,"  she  said,  "  but 
you  cannot  play  until  you  know  your  lessons  per- 
fectly." With  that  she  gave  the  book  to  Arthur 
and  walked  away,  leaving  him  alone. 

From  where  I  stood  I  could  hear  him  crying. 
How  could  his  mother,  who  appeared  to  love  him 
so  much,  be  so  severe  with  the  poor  little  fellow. 
A  moment  later  she  returned. 

"  Shall  we  try  again?  "  she  asked  gently. 

She  sat  down  beside  him  and,  taking  the  book, 
she  began  to  read  the  fable  called  "  The  Wolf  and 
the  Sheep."  She  read  it  through  three  times,  then 
gave  the  book  back  to  Arthur  and  told  him  to  learn 
it  alone.  She  went  inside  the  boat. 


114 NOBODY'S  BOY 

I  could  see  Arthur's  lips  moving.  He  certainly 
was  trying  very  hard.  But  soon  he  took  his  eyes 
off  the  book;  his  lips  stopped  moving.  His  look 
wandered  everywhere,  but  not  back  to  his  book. 
Suddenly  he  caught  my  eye;  I  made  a  sign  to  him 
to  go  on  with  his  lesson.  He  smiled,  as  though  to 
thank  me  for  reminding  him,  and  again  fixed  his 
eyes  on  his  book.  But  as  before,  he  could  not  con- 
centrate his  thoughts;  his  eyes  began  to  rove  from 
first  one  side  of  the  canal  to  the  other.  Just  then 
a  bird  flew  over  the  boat,  swiftly  as  an  arrow. 
Arthur  raised  his  head  to  follow  its  flight.  When 
it  had  passed  he  looked  at  me. 

"  I  can't  learn  this,"  he  said,  "  and  yet  I  want 
to." 

I  went  over  to  him. 

"  It  is  not  very  difficult,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  it  is,  it's  awfully  difficult." 

"  It  seems  to  me  quite  easy.  I  was  listening 
while  your  mother  read  it,  and  I  almost  learned  it 
myself." 

He  smiled  as  though  he  did  not  believe  it. 

"  Do  you  wrant  me  to  say  it  to  you?  " 

"  You  can't." 

"  Shall  I  try?    You  take  the  book." 

He  took  up  the  book  again,  and  I  began  to  recite 
the  verse.  I  had  it  almost  perfect. 

"What!  you  know  it?" 

"Not  quite,  but  next  time  I  could  say  it  with- 
out a  mistake,  I  believe." 

"  How  did  you  learn  it?  " 


ANOTHER  BOY'S  MOTHER      115 

"  I  listened  while  your  mother  read  it,  but  I  lis- 
tened attentively  without  looking  about  to  see  what 
was  going  on  round  about  me." 

He  reddened,  and  turned  away  his  eyes. 

"  I  will  try,  like  you,"  he  said,  "  but  tell  me,  what 
did  you  do  to  remember  the  words?  " 

I  did  not  quite  know  how  to  explain,  but  I  tried 
my  best. 

"What  is  the  fable  about?"  I  said.  "Sheep. 
Well,  first  of  all,  I  thought  of  sheep ;  the  sheep  were 
in  a  field.  I  could  see  them  lying  down  and  sleep- 
ing in  the  field;  picturing  them  so,  I  did  not  for- 
get." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  "  I  can  see  them,  black  and 
white  ones!  in  a  green  field." 

"What  looks  after  the  sheep  usually?" 

"  Dogs." 

"And?  .  .  ." 

"A  shepherd." 

"  If  they  thought  the  sheep  were  quite  safe,  what 
did  they  do?  " 

"  The  dog  slept  while  the  shepherd  played  his 
flute  in  the  distance  with  the  other  shepherds." 

Little  by  little  Arthur  had  the  entire  fable  pic- 
tured in  his  mind's  eye.  I  explained  every  detail, 
as  well  as  I  was  able.  WThen  he  was  thoroughly 
interested  we  went  over  the  lines  together  and  at 
the  end  of  half  an  hour  he  had  mastered  it. 

"  Oh,  how  pleased  mamma  will  be!  "  he  cried. 

When  his  mother  came  out  she  seemed  dis- 
pleased that  we  were  together.  She  thought  that 


116 NOBODY'S  BOY 

we  had  been  playing,  but  Arthur  did  not  give  her 
time  to  say  a  word. 

"  I  know  it !  "  he  cried.  "  Bemi  has  taught  it 
to  me." 

Mrs.  Milligan  looked  at  me  in  surprise,  but  be- 
fore she  could  say  a  word  Arthur  had  commenced 
to  recite  the  fable.  I  looked  at  Mrs.  Milligan : 
her  beautiful  face  broke  into  a  smile;  then  I 
thought  I  saw  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  she  bent  her 
head  quickly  over  her  son  and  put  her  arms  about 
him.  I  was  not  sure  if  she  was  crying. 

"  The  words  mean  nothing,"  said  Arthur ;  "  they 
are  stupid,  but  the  things  that  one  sees!  Kemi 
made  me  see  the  shepherd  with  his  flute,  and  the 
fields,  and  the  dogs,  and  the  sheep,  then  the  wolves, 
and  I  could  even  hear  the  music  that  the  shepherd 
was  playing.  Shall  I  sing  the  song  to  you, 
Mamma?  " 

And  he  sang  a  little  sad  song  in  English. 

This  time  Mrs.  Milligan  did  really  cry,  for  when 
she  got  up  from  her  seat,  I  saw  that  Arthur's 
cheeks  were  wet  with  her  tears.  Then  she  came 
to  me  and,  taking  my  hand  in  hers,  pressed  it 
gently. 

"You  are  a  good  boy,"  she  said. 

The  evening  before  I  had  been  a  little  tramp, 
who  had  come  on  the  barge  with  his  animals  to 
amuse  a  sick  child,  but  this  lesson  drew  me  apart 
from  the  dogs  and  the  monkey.  I  was,  from  now, 
a  companion,  almost  a  friend,  to  the  sick  boy. 

From  that  day  there  was  a  change  in  Mrs.  Mil- 


ANOTHER  BOY'S  MOTHER      117 

<<> 
ligan's  manner  toward  me,,  and  between  Arthur 

and  myself  there  grew  a  string  friendship.  I  never 
once  felt  the  difference  in*6ur  positions;  this  may 
have  been  due  to  Mrs.  Milligan's  kindness,  for  she 
often  spoke  to  me  as  though  I  were  her  child. 

When  the  country  was  interesting  we  would  go 
very  slowly,  but  if  the  landscape  was  dreary,  the 
horses  would  trot  quickly  along  the  towing  path. 
When  the  sun  went  down  the  barge  stopped;  when 
the  sun  rose  the  barge  started  on  again. 

If  the  evenings  were  damp  we  went  into  the  lit- 
tle cabin  and  sat  round  a  bright  fire,  so  that  the 
sick  boy  should  not  feel  chilly,  and  Mrs.  Milligan 
would  read  to  us  and  show  us  pictures  and  tell  us 
beautiful  stories. 

Then,  when  the  evenings  were  beautiful,  I  did 
my  part.  I  would  take  my  harp  and  when  the 
boat  had  stopped  I  would  get  off  and  go  at  a  short 
distance  and  sit  behind  a  tree.  Then,  hidden  by 
the  branches,  I  played  and  sang  my  best.  On  calm 
nights  Arthur  liked  to  hear  the  music  without  be- 
ing able  to  see  who  played.  And  when  I  played 
his  favorite  airs  he  would  call  out  "  Encore,"  and  I 
would  play  the  piece  over  again. 

That  was  a  beautiful  life  for  the  country  boy, 
who  had  sat  by  Mother  Barberin's  fireside,  and 
who  had  tramped  the  high  roads  with  Sigiior  Vi- 
talis.  What  a  difference  between  the  dish  of  boiled 
potatoes  that  my  poor  foster  mother  had  given  me 
and  the  delicious  tarts,  jellies,  and  creams  that 
Mrs.  Milligan's  cook  made!  What  a  contrast  be- 


118 NOBODY'S  BOY 

tween  the  long  tramps  in  the  mud,  the  pouring  rain, 
the  scorching  sun,  trudging  behind  Vitalis,  .  .  . 
and  this  ride  on  the  beautiful  barge ! 

The  pastry  was  delicious,  and  yes,  it  was  fine,  oh, 
so  fine  not  to  be  hungry,  nor  tired,  nor  too  hot,  nor 
too  cold,  but  in  justice  to  myself,  I  must  say  that 
it  was  the  kindness  and  love  of  this  lady  and  this 
little  boy  that  I  felt  the  most.  Twice  I  had  been 
torn  from  those  I  loved,  .  .  .  first  from  dear 
Mother  Barberin,  and  then  from  Vitalis.  I  was 
left  with  only  the  dogs  and  the  monkey,  hungry 
and  footsore,  and  then  a  beautiful  lady,  with  a  child 
of  about  my  own  age,  had  taken  me  in  and  treated 
me  as  though  I  were  a  brother. 

Often,  as  I  looked  at  Arthur  strapped  to  his 
bench,  pale  and  drawn,  I  envied  him,  I,  so  full  of 
health  and  strength,  envied  the  little  sick  boy.  It 
was  not  the  luxuries  that  surrounded  him  that  I 
envied,  not  the  boat.  It  was  his  mother.  Oh,  how 
I  wanted  a  mother  of  my  own!  She  kissed  him, 
and  he  was  able  to  put  his  arms  around  her  when- 
ever he  wished, —  this  lady  whose  hand  I  scarcely 
dared  touch  when  she  held  it  out  to  me.  And  I 
thought  sadly  that  I  should  never  have  a  mother 
wrho  would  kiss  me  and  whom  I  could  kiss.  Per- 
haps one  day  I  should  see  Mother  Barberin  again, 
and  that  would  make  me  very  happy,  but  I  could 
not  call  her  mother  now,  for  she  was  not  my 
mother.  .  .  . 

I  was  alone.  ...  I  should  always  be  alone.  .  .  . 
Nobody's  boy, 


ANOTHER  BOY'S  MOTHER     119 

I  was  old  enough  to  know  that  one  should  not 
expect  to  have  too  much  from  this  world,  and  I 
thought  that,  as  I  had  no  family,  no  father  or 
mother,  I  should  be  thankful  that  I  had  friends. 
And  I  was  happy,  so  happy  on  that  barge.  But, 
alas !  it  was  not  to  last  long.  The  day  was  drawing 
near  for  me  to  take  up  my  old  life  again. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  MASTER'S  CONSENT 

IT  was  all  to  end, —  this  beautiful  trip  that  I 
had  made  on  the  barge.  No  nice  bed,  no  nice 
pastry,  no  evenings  listening  to  Mrs.  Milligan. 
Ah !  no  Mrs.  Milligan  or  Arthur ! 

One  day  I  decided  to  ask  Mrs.  Milligan  how 
long  it  would  take  me  to  get  back  to  Toulouse.  I 
wanted  to  be  waiting  at  the  prison  door  when  my 
master  came  out.  When  Arthur  heard  me  speak 
of  going  back,  he  began  to  cry. 

"  I  <ion't  want  him  to  go !  I  don't  want  Remi  to 
go,"  he  sobbed. 

I  told  him  that  I  belonged  to  Vitalis,  and  that 
he  had  paid  a  sum  of  money  for  me,  and  that  I 
must  return  to  him  the  moment  he  wanted  me.  I 
had  spoken  of  my  foster  parents,  but  had  never 
said  that  they  were  not  really  my  father  and 
mother.  I  felt  ashamed  to  admit  that  I  was  a 
foundling, —  a  child  picked  up  in  the  streets!  I 
knew  how  the  children  from  the  Foundlings'  Hos- 
pital had  been  scorned.  It  seemed  to  me  that  it 
was  the  most  abject  thing  in  the  world  to  be  a 
foundling.  I  did  not  want  Mrs.  Milligan  and  Ar- 
thur to  know.  Would  they  not  have  turned  from 

me  in  disdain ! 

120 


THE  MASTER'S  CONSENT       121 

"Mamma,  we  must  keep  Remi,"  continued  Ar- 
thur. 

"  I  should  be  very  pleased  to  keep  Remi  with 
us,"  replied  Mrs.  Milligan ;  "  we  are  so  fond  of 
him.  But  there  are  two  things ;  first,  Remi  would 
have  to  want  to  stay.  .  .  ." 

"  Oh,  he  does !  he  does !  "  cried  Arthur,  "  don't 
you,  Remi?  You  don't  want  to  go  back  to  Tou- 
louse? " 

"  The  second  is,"  continued  Mrs.  Milligan,  "  will 
his  master  give  him  up?  " 

"  Remi  comes  first ;  he  comes  first,"  Arthur  in- 
sisted. 

Vitalis  had  been  a  good  master,  and  I  was  very 
grateful  for  all  he  had  taught  me,  but  there  was 
no  comparison  between  my  life  with  him  and  that 
which  I  should  have  with  Arthur,  and  at  the  same 
time,  there  was  also  no  comparison  between  the 
respect  I  had  for  Vitalis  and  the  affection  which 
I  felt  for  Mrs.  Milligan  and  her  invalid  boy.  I 
felt  that  it  was  wrong  for  me  to  prefer  these 
strangers  to  my  master,  but  it  was  so.  I  loved 
Mrs.  Milligan  and  Arthur. 

"If  Remi  stays  with  us  it  will  not  be  all  pleas- 
ure," went  on  Mrs.  Milligan ;  "  he  would  have  to 
do  lessons  the  same  as  you ;  he  would  have  to  study 
a  great  deal;  it  would  not  be  the  free  life  that  he 
would  have  in  going  tramping  along  the  roads." 

"  Ah,  you  know  what  I  would  like,  ..."  I  began. 

"  There,  there,  you  see,  Mamma ! "  interrupted 
Arthur. 


122 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"All  that  we  have  to  do  now,"  continued  Mrs. 
Milligan,  "  is  to  get  his  master's  consent.  I  will 
write  and  ask  him  if  he  will  come  here,  for  we 
cannot  return  to  Toulouse.  I  will  send  him  his 
fare,  and  explain  to  him  the  reason  why  we  can- 
not take  the  train.  I'll  invite  him  here,  and  I  do 
hope  he  will  accept. 

"  If  he  agrees  to  my  proposition,"  added  Mrs. 
Milligan,  "  I  will  then  make  arrangements  with 
your  parents,  Remi,  for  of  course  they  must  be  con- 
sulted." 

Consult  my  parents!  They  will  tell  her  what  I 
have  been  trying  to  keep  secret.  That  I  am  a 
foundling!  Then  neither  Arthur  nor  Mrs.  Mil- 
ligan would  want  me ! 

A  boy  who  did  not  know  his  own  father  or 
mother  had  been  a  companion  to  Arthur !  I  stared 
at  Mrs.  Milligan  in  affright.  I  did  not  know  what 
to  say.  She  looked  at  me  in  surprise.  I  did  not 
dare  reply  to  her  question  when  she  asked  me  what 
was  the  matter.  Probably  thinking  that  I  was  up- 
set at  the  thought  of  my  master  coming,  she  did  not 
insist. 

Arthur  looked  at  me  curiously  all  the  evening. 
I  was  glad  when  bedtime  came,  and  I  could  close 
myself  in  my  cabin.  That  was  my  first  bad  night 
on  board  the  Swan.  What  could  I  do?  What 
say? 

Perhaps  Vitalis  would  not  give  me  up,  then  they 
would  never  know  the  truth.  My  shame  and  fear 
of  them  finding  out  the  truth  was  so  great  that  I 


THE  MASTER'S  CONSENT      123 

began  to  hope  that  Vitalis  would  insist  upon  me 
staying  with  him. 

Three  days  later  Mrs.  Milligan  received  a  reply 
to  the  letter  she  had  sent  Vitalis.  He  said  that  he 
would  be  pleased  to  come  and  see  her,  and  that  he 
would  arrive  the  following  Saturday,  by  the  two 
o'clock  train.  I  asked  permission  to  go  to  the  sta- 
tion with  the  dogs  and  Pretty-Heart  to  meet  him. 

In  the  morning  the  dogs  were  restless  as  though 
they  knew  that  something  was  going  to  happen. 
Pretty-Heart  was  indifferent.  I  was  terribly  ex- 
cited. My  fate  was  to  be  decided.  If  I  had  pos- 
sessed the  courage  I  would  have  implored  Vitalis 
not  to  tell  Mrs.  Milligan  that  I  was  a  foundling, 
but  I  felt  that  I  could  not  utter  the  word,  even  to 
him. 

I  stood  on  a  corner  of  the  railway  station,  hold- 
ing my  dogs  on  a  leash,  with  Pretty-Heart  under 
my  coat,  and  I  waited.  I  saw  little  of  what  passed 
around  me.  It  was  the  dogs  who  warned  me  that 
the  train  had  arrived.  They  scented  their  master. 
Suddenly  there  was  a  tug  at  the  leash.  As  I  was 
not  on  my  guard,  they  broke  loose.  With  a  bark 
they  bounded  forward.  I  saw  them  spring  upon 
Vitalis.  More  sure,  although  less  supple  than  the 
other  two,  Capi  had  jumped  straight  into  his  mas- 
ter's arms,  while  Zerbino  and  Dulcie  jumped  at  his 
feet. 

When  Vitalis  saw  me,  he  put  Capi  down  quickly, 
and  threw  his  arms  around  me.  For  the  first  time 
he  kissed  me. 


124 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"God  bless  you,  my  boy,"  he  said  again,  and 
again. 

My  master  had  never  been  hard  with  me,  but 
neither  had  he  ever  been  affectionate,  and  I  was 
not  used  to  these  effusions.  I  was  touched,  and 
the  tears  came  to  my  eyes,  for  I  was  in  the  mood 
when  the  heart  is  easily  stirred.  I  looked  at  him. 
His  stay  in  prison  had  aged  him  greatly.  His  back 
was  bent,  his  face  paler,  and  his  lips  bloodless. 

"  You  find  me  changed,  don't  you,  Kemi?  "  he 
said ;  "  I  was  none  too  happy  in  prison,  but  I'll  be 
better  now  I'm  out." 

Then,  changing  the  subject,  he  added : 

"  Tell  me  about  this  lady  who  wrote  to  me ;  how 
did  you  get  to  know  her?  " 

I  told  him  how  I  had  met  Mrs.  Milligan  and 
Arthur  in  their  barge,  the  Swan,  on  the  canal,  and 
of  what  we  had  seen,  and  what  we  had  done.  I 
rambled  along  hardly  knowing  what  I  said.  Now 
that  I  saw  Vitalis,  I  felt  that  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  tell  him  that  I  wanted  to  leave  him  and 
sta^  with  Mrs.  Milligan. 

We  reached  the  hotel  where  Mrs.  Milligan  wras 
staying,  before  my  story  was  ended.  Vitalis  had 
not  mentioned  what  she  had  proposed  to  him  in  her 
letter,  s"o  I  said  nothing  of  her  plan. 

"  Is  this  lady  expecting  me?  "  he  asked,  as  we 
entered  the  hotel. 

"  Yes,  I'll  take  you  up  to  her  apartment,"  I  said. 

"  There's  no  occasion  for  that,"  he  replied ;  "  I'll 


THE  MASTER'S  CONSENT       125 

go  up  alone;  you  wait  here  for  me  with  Pretty- 
Heart  and  the  dogs." 

I  had  always  obeyed  him,  but  in  this  case  I  felt 
that  it  was  only  fair  for  me  to  go  up  with  him  to 
Mrs.  Milligan's  apartment.  But  with  a  sign  he 
stopped  the  words  on  my  lips,  and  I  was  forced  to 
stay  below  with  the  dogs. 

Why  didn't  he  want  me  to  be  present  when  he 
spoke  to  Mrs.  Milligan?  I  asked  myself  this  ques- 
tion again  and  again.  I  was  still  pondering  over 
it  when  he  returned. 

"  Go  and  say  good-by  to  the  lady,"  he  said, 
briefly.  "I'll  wait  for  you  here.  We  shall  go  in 
ten  minutes." 

I  was  thunderstruck. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  didn't  you  understand  me? 
You  stand  there  like  a  stupid !  Hurry  up !  " 

He  had  never  spoken  so  roughly  to  me.  Me- 
chanically I  got  up  to  obey,  not  seeming  to  under- 
stand. 

"  \Vhat  did  you  say  to  her?  "  I  asked,  after  I  had 
gone  a  few  steps. 

"  I  said  that  I  needed  you  and  that  you  needed 
me,  and  consequently  I  was  not  going  to  give  up 
my  rights  to  you.  Go;  I  give  you  ten  minutes  to 
say  good-by." 

I  was  so  possessed  by  the  fact  that  I  was  a 
foundling,  that  I  thought  that  if  I  had  to  leave  im- 
mediately it  was  because  my  master  had  told  them 
about  my  birth. 


126 NOBODY'S  BOY 

Upon  entering  Mrs.  Milligan's  apartment  I 
found  Arthur  in  tears  and  his  mother  bending  over 
him. 

"  You  won't  go,  Eemi !  Oh,  Remi,  tell  me  you 
won't  go/'  he  sobbed. 

I  could  not  speak.  Mrs.  Milligan  replied  for 
me,  telling  Arthur  that  I  had  to  do  as  I  was  told. 

"  Signor  Vitalis  would  not  consent  to  let  us 
have  you,"  said  Mrs.  Milligan  in  a  voice  so  sad. 

"  He's  a  wicked  man !  "  cried  Arthur. 

"  No,  he  is  not  a  wicked  man/'  continued  Mrs. 
Milligan ;  "  he  loves  you.  .  .  .  and  he  needs  you. 
He  speaks  like  a  man  far  above  his  position.  He 
told  me, —  let  me  see,  these  were  his  words : 

" '  I  love  that  child,  and  he  loves  me.  The  ap- 
prenticeship in  the  life  that  I  give  him  is  good  for 
him,  better,  far  better,  than  he  would  have  with 
you.  You  would  give  him  an  education,  that  is 
true;  you  would  form  his  mind,  but  not  his  char- 
acter. It  is  the  hardships  of  life  that  alone  can 
do  that.  He  cannot  be  your  son ;  he  will  be  mine. 
That  is  better  than  to  be  a  plaything  for  your  sick 
child,  however  sweet  he  may  be.  I  also  will  teach 
the  boy.' " 

"  But  he  isn't  Remi's  father,"  cried  Arthur. 

u  That  is  true,  but  he  is  his  master,  and  Remi 
belongs  to  him.  For  the  time  being,  Remi  must 
obey  him.  His  parents  rented  him  to  Signor  Vi- 
talis, but  I  will  write  to  them  and  see  what  I  can 
do." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  don't  do  that,"  I  cried. 


THE  MASTER'S  CONSENT      127 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Oh,  no,  please  don't." 

"  But  that  is  the  only  thing  to  do,  my  child." 

"  Oh,  please,  please  don't." 

If  Mrs.  Milligan  had  not  spoken  of  my  parents, 
I  should  have  taken  much  more  than  the  ten  min- 
utes to  say  good-by  that  my  master  had  given  me. 

"They  live  in  Chavanon,  do  they  not?"  asked 
Mrs.  Milligan. 

Without  replying,  I  went  up  to  Arthur  and,  put- 
ting my  arms  round  him,  clung  to  him  for  a  mo- 
ment then,  freeing  myself  from  his  weak  clasp,  I 
turned  and  held  out  my  hand  to  Mrs.  Milligan. 

"  Poor  child,"  she  murmured,  kissing  me  on  the 
forehead. 

I  hurried  to  the  door. 

"Arthur,  I  will  love  you  always,"  I  said,  chok- 
ing back  my  sobs,  "  and  I  never,  never  will  forget 
you,  Mrs.  Milligan." 

"  Remi !  Remi !  "  cried  Arthur. 

I  closed  the  door.  One  moment  later  I  was  with 
Vitalis. 

"  Off  we  go,"  he  said. 

And  that  was  how  I  parted  from  my  first  boy 
friend. 


AGAIN  I  had  to  tramp  behind  my  master  with 
the  harp  strapped  to  my  shoulder,  through 
the  rain,  the  sun,  the  dust,  and  the  mud.  I  had  to 
play  the  fool  and  laugh  and  cry  in  order  to  please 
the  "  distinguished  audience." 

More  than  once  in  our  long  walks  I  lagged  be- 
hind to  think  of  Arthur,  his  mother,  and  the  Swan. 
When  I  was  in  some  dirty  village  how  I  would  long 
for  my  pretty  cabin  on  the  barge.  And  how  rough 
the  sheets  were  now.  It  was  terrible  to  think  that 
I  should  never  again  play  with  Arthur,  and  never 
hear  his  mother's  voice. 

Fortunately  in  my  sorrow,  which  was  very  deep, 
I  had  one  consolation;  Vitalis  was  much  kinder, 
kinder  than  he  had  ever  been  before.  His  manner 
with  me  had  quite  changed.  I  felt  that  he  was 
more  to  me  than  a  master  now.  Often,  if  I  dared, 
I  would  have  embraced  him,  I  so  needed  love.  But 
I  had  not  the  courage,  for  Vitalis  was  not  a  man 
with  whom  one  dared  be  familiar.  At  first  it  had 
been  fear  that  kept  me  at  a  distance,  but  now  it 
was  something  vague,  which  resembled  a  sentiment 
of  respect 

When  I  left  the  village  I  had  looked  upon  Vi- 

128 


WEARY  DREARY  DAYS         31 

tails  the  same  as  the  other  men  of  the  poorer 
class.  I  was  not  able  to  make  distinctions,  but 
the  two  months  that  I  had  lived  with  Mrs.  Milli- 
gan  had  opened  my  eyes  and  developed  my  intel- 
ligence. Looking  at  my  master  with  more  atten- 
tion, it  seemed  to  me  that  in  manner  and  bearing 
he  appeared  to  be  very  superior.  His  ways  were 
like  Mrs.  Milligan's  ways.  .  .  . 

Weeks  passed.  On  our  tramps,  now,  my  eyes 
were  always  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  water, 
not  to  the  hills.  I  was  always  hoping  that  one 
day  I  should  see  the  Swan.  If  I  saw  a  boat  in  the 
distance  I  always  thought  that  it  might  be  the 
Swan.  But  it  was  not. 

We  passed  several  days  at  Lyons,  and  all  my 
spare  time  I  spent  on  the  docks,  looking  up  and 
down  the  river.  I  described  the  beautiful  barge 
to  the  fishermen  and  asked  them  if  they  had  seen  it, 
but  no  one  had  seen  it. 

We  had  to  leave  Lyons  at  last  and  went  on  to 
Dijon ;  then  I  began  to  give  up  hope  of  ever  seeing 
Mrs.  Milligan  again,  for  at  Lyons  I  had  studied 
all  the  maps  of  France,  and  I  knew  that  the  Swan 
could  not  go  farther  up  the  river  to  reach  the 
Loire.  It  would  branch  off  at  Chalon.  We  ar- 
rived at  Chalon,  and  we  went  on  again  without 
seeing  it.  It  was  the  end  of  my  dream. 

To  make  things  worse,  the  winter  was  now  upon 
us,  and  we  had  to  tramp  along  wearily  in  the  blind- 
ing rain  and  slush.  At  night,  when  we  arrived  at 
a  wretched  inn,  or  in  a  barn,  tired  out,  wet  to  the 


NOBODY'S  BOY 


skin,  I  could  not  drop  off  to  sleep  with  laughter 
on  my  lips.  Sometimes  we  were  frozen  to  the  bone, 
and  Pretty-Heart  was  as  sad  and  mournful  as  my- 
self. 

My  master's  object  was  to  get  to  Paris  as  quickly 
as  possible,  for  it  was  only  in  Paris  that  we  had  a 
chance  to  give  performances  during  the  winter. 
We  were  making  very  little  money  now,  so  we 
could  not  afford  to  take  the  train. 

After  the  cold  sleet,  the  wind  turned  to  the  north. 
It  had  been  very  damp  for  several  days.  At  first 
we  did  not  mind  the  biting  north  wind  in  our 
faces,  but  soon  the  sky  filled  with  great  black 
clouds  and  the  wintry  sun  disappeared  altogether. 
We  knew  that  a  snowstorm  was  coming. 

Vital  is  was  anxious  to  get  to  the  next  big  town, 
where  we  could  stay  and  give  several  performances, 
if  very  bad  weather  overtook  us. 

"  Go  to  bed  quickly,"  he  said,  when  we  got  to  an 
inn  that  night ;  "  we  are  going  to  start  at  a  very 
early  hour  to-morrow,  because  I  don't  want  to  be 
caught  in  a  snowstorm." 

He  did  not  go  to  bed  at  once,  but  sat  down  by  a 
corner  of  the  kitchen  fire  to  warm  Pretty-Heart, 
who  was  suffering  terribly  from  the  cold.  The 
monkey  had  not  ceased  moaning,  although  we  had 
wrapped  him  up  in  plenty  of  coverlets. 

The  next  morning  I  got  up  early  as  I  had  been 
told.  It  was  not  yet  day,  the  sky  was  lowering 
and  black,  and  there  was  not  a  star  to  be  seen. 


WEARY  DREARY  DAYS         131 

When  we  opened  the  door  a  strong  wind  almost 
took  us  off  our  feet. 

"  If  I  were  in  your  place,"  said  the  innkeeper  to 
Vitalis,  "  I  wouldn't  venture  out.  We're  going 
to  have  a  terrible  snowstorm." 

"  I'm  in  a  hurry,"  replied  Vitalis,  "  and  I  want  to 
get  to  Troyes  before  it  comes  on." 

"  Thirty  miles." 

Nevertheless,  we  started. 

Vitalis  held  Pretty-Heart  tight  against  his  body 
so  as  to  give  him  some  of  his  own  warmth,  and  the 
dogs,  pleased  with  the  hard  dry  roads,  raced  before 
us.  My  master  had  bought  a  sheepskin  for  me  at 
Dijon,  and  I  wrapped  myself  up  in  it  with  the  wool 
inside. 

It  was  anything  but  agreeable  when  we  opened 
our  mouths,  so  we  walked  along  in  silence,  hurry- 
ing as  much  to  get  warm  as  to  get  ahead.  Al- 
though it  was  long  past  the  hour  of  daybreak,  the 
sky  was  still  quite  black.  Although  to  the  east  a 
whitish  band  cut  the  clouds,  yet  the  sun  would  not 
come  out.  Looking  across  the  country,  objects 
were  now  becoming  more  distinct.  We  could  see 
the  trees  stripped  of  their  leaves,  and  the  shrubs 
and  bushes  with  dry  foliage  rustling  and  cracking 
with  the  heavy  gusts  of  wind.  There  was  no  one 
on  the  roads,  nor  in  the  fields,  not  a  sound  of  cart 
wheels,  nor  the  crack  of  a  whip. 

Suddenly,  in  the  distance,  we  could  see  a  pale 
itreak  which  got  larger  and  larger  as  it  came  to- 


132 NOBODY'S  BOY 

wards  us.  Then  we  heard  a  sort  of  hissing  mur- 
mur, the  strange,  harsh  cry  of  the  wild  geese.  The 
maddened  flock  flew  over  our  heads ;  on  they  went, 
wildly  fleeing  from  the  north  towards  the  south. 
Before  they  were  out  of  sight,  soft  flakes  were  drop- 
ping gently  from  the  skies  and  floating  in  the  at- 
mosphere. 

The  country  through  which  we  tramped  was 
desolate  and  bleak,  the  mournful  aspect  seemed 
to  add  to  the  silence;  only  the  shrill  whistling  of 
the  north  wind  was  heard.  Snowflakes,  like  tiny 
butterflies,  fluttered  around  us,  whirling  inces- 
santly without  touching  the  ground. 

We  made  little  headway.  It  seemed  impossible 
that  we  could  reach  Troyes  before  the  storm  was 
fully  upon  us.  But  I  did  not  worry;  I  thought 
that  if  the  snow  fell  it  would  not  be  so  cold. 

I  did  not  know  what  a  snow  storm  could  be.  It 
was  not  long  before  I  learned,  and  in  a  way  that  I 
shall  never  forget.  The  clouds  were  gathering 
from  the  northwest.  The  flakes  no  longer  hovered 
in  the  air,  but  fell  straight  and  swift,  covering  us 
from  head  to  foot. 

"  We  shall  have  to  take  shelter  in  the  first  house 
we  come  to,"  murmured  Vitalis ;  "  we  cannot  make 
Troyes." 

I  was  pleased  to  hear  him  say  that,  but  where 
could  we  find  shelter?  As  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach  there  was  not  a  house  to  be  seen,  nor  any- 
thing to  indicate  that  we  were  nearing  a  village. 

Before  us  lay  a  forest  with  its  dark  depths,  and 


WEARY  DREARY  DAYS         133 

on  either  side  of  us  the  hills.  The  snow  came 
down  faster  and  thicker. 

We  tramped  in  silence.  My  master  lifted  his 
sheepskin  now  and  again  for  Pretty-Heart  to 
breathe  more  easily.  From  time  to  time  we  had 
to  turn  our  heads  to  one  side,  so  that  we  also  could 
breathe.  The  dogs  no  longer  raced  ahead;  they 
walked  at  our  heels  asking  for  the  shelter  that  we 
were  unable  to  give  them. 

We  went  slowly  and  painfully  on,  blinded,  wet 
and  frozen,  and,  although  we  were  now  in  the  heart 
of  the  forest,  the  road  through  it  was  exposed  to 
the  full  wind.  Several  times  I  saw  my  master 
glance  to  the  left,  as  though  he  were  looking  for 
something,  but  he  said  nothing.  What  did  he  hope 
to  find?  I  looked  straight  before  me,  down  the 
long  road.  As  far  as  my  eye  could  reach,  I  could 
see  nothing  but  woods  on  either  side.  I  thought 
we  should  never  come  to  the  end  of  that  forest. 

I  had  seen  the  snow  falling  only  through  the 
window  panes  of  a  warm  kitchen.  How  far  off 
that  warm  kitchen  seemed  now!  Our  feet  sunk 
into  the  white  bed  of  snow,  deeper  and  deeper. 
Then,  suddenly,  without  saying  a  word,  Vitalis 
pointed  to  the  left.  I  looked  and  saw  indistinctly 
a  little  hut  made  of  branches. 

We  had  to  find  the  track  that  led  to  the  hut. 
This  was  difficult,  for  the  snow  was  already  thick 
enough  to  efface  all  trace  of  a  path.  We  scram- 
bled through  the  bushes,  and  after  crossing  a  ditch, 
we  managed  at  last  to  reach  the  hut  and  get  inside. 


134 NOBODY'S  BOY 

The  dogs,  in  ecstasy,  rolled  over  and  over  on  the 
dry  ground,  barking.  Our  satisfaction  was  no  less 
keen  than  theirs. 

"  I  thought  there  would  be  a  wood-cutter's  cabin 
somewhere  in  the  forest,''  said  Vitalis.  "  Now,  it 
can  snow ! " 

"  Yes,  let  it  snow,"  I  said  defiantly ;  "  I  don't 
care ! " 

I  went  to  the  door,  or  rather  to  the  opening  of 
the  hut,  for  there  was  neither  door  nor  window, 
and  shook  my  coat  and  hat,  so  as  not  to  wet  the 
inside  of  our  apartment. 

Our  quarters  were  very  simply  but  strongly 
built.  Its  furniture  consisted  of  a  heap  of  dirt 
and  some  big  stones  for  seats. 

In  a  house  like  this  it  was  not  difficult  to  find 
fuel;  we  had  only  to  take  it  down  from  the  walls 
and  the  roof,  dragging  out  a  few  faggots  here  and 
there.  This  was  quickly  done,  and  soon  we  had  a 
bright  flaming  fire.  It  is  true  that  the  hut  was 
soon  filled  with  smoke,  but  what  did  that  matter? 
There  was  a  flame,  and  it  was  heat  that  we  wanted. 
I  lay  down,  supporting  myself  on  my  two  hands,  and 
blew  the  fire ;  the  dogs  sat  around  the  grate  gravely ; 
with  necks  stretched  out  they  presented  their  wet 
sides  to  the  flames. 

Pretty-Heart  soon  ventured  to  peep  from  under 
Vitalis'  coat ;  prudently  putting  the  end  of  his  nose 
outside,  he  looked  about  to  take  in  his  surround- 
ings. Evidently  satisfied,  he  jumped  quickly  to 
the  ground  and  taking  the  best  place  before  the 


WEARY  DREARY  DAYS        185 

fire  he  held  out  his  two  little  trembling  hands  to 
the  flames. 

That  morning  before  I  had  risen,  Vitalis  had 
packed  some  provisions.  There  was  some  bread 
and  a  piece  of  cheese.  We  all  expressed  satisfac- 
tion at  the  sight  of  the  food.  Unfortunately,  we 
were  only  able  to  have  a  very  small  piece,  for  not 
knowing  how  long  we  should  have  to  stay  in  the 
hut,  Vitalis  thought  it  advisable  to  keep  some  for 
supper.  I  understood,  but  the  dogs  did  not,  and 
when  they  saw  the  bread  put  back  in  the  bag  be- 
fore they  had  scarcely  eaten,  they  held  out  their 
paws  to  their  master,  scratching  his  neck,  and  per- 
forming pantomime  gestures  to  make  him  open  the 
bag  upon  which  their  eyes  were  fixed.  But  Vitalis 
took  no  notice  of  them;  the  bag  was  not  opened. 
The  dogs  settled  themselves  to  go  to  sleep,  Capi 
with  his  nose  in  the  cinders.  I  thought  that  I 
would  follow  their  example. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  I  slept;  when  I  awoke 
the  snow  had  stopped  falling.  I  looked  outside. 
It  was  very  deep ;  if  we  ventured  out  it  would  come 
above  our  knees. 

What  time  was  it?  I  could  not  ask  Vitalis. 
His  big  silver  watch,  by  which  Capi  had  told  the 
hour,  had  been  sold.  He  had  spent  all  his  money 
to  pay  his  prison  fine,  and  when  he  bought  my 
sheepskin  at  Dijon  he  had  parted  with  his  big 
watch  to  pay  for  it  From  the  misty  atmosphere 
it  was  impossible  for  me  to  tell  what  hour  it  might 
be. 


136 NOBODY'S  BOY 

There  was  not  a  sound  to  be  heard;  the  snow 
seemed  to  have  petrified  every  movement  of  life. 
I  was  standing  in  the  opening  of  our  cabin  when 
I  heard  my  master  calling. 

"  Do  you  want  to  get  on  your  way?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know;  I  want  to  do  what  you  wish." 

"  Well,  I  think  we  ought  to  stay  here;  we  are  at 
least  sheltered  and  have  warmth." 

That  was  true,  but  I  remembered  that  we  had  no 
food.  However,  I  said  nothing. 

"  I'm  afraid  it  will  snow  again,"  continued  Vi- 
talis.  "We  don't  want  to  spend  the  night  out- 
side. Better  stay  here." 

Yes,  we  should  have  to  stay  in  the  hut  and 
tighten  our  belts  round  our  stomachs,  that  was  all. 

At  supper  Vitalis  divided  the  remainder  of  the 
bread.  Alas,  there  was  but  little,  and  it  was 
quickly  eaten ;  we  gobbled  up  every  crumb.  When 
our  frugal  supper  was  over  I  thought  that  the  dogs 
would  begin  making  signs  for  more  as  they  had 
done  before,  for  they  were  ravenous.  But  they  did 
nothing  of  the  kind,  and  once  again  I  realized  how 
great  was  their  intelligence. 

When  Vitalis  thrust  his  knife  into  his  trouser 
pocket,  which  indicated  that  the  feast  was  over, 
Capi  got  up  and  smelled  the  bag  in  which  the  food 
was  kept.  He  then  placed  his  paw  on  the  bag  to 
feel  it.  This  double  investigation  convinced  him 
that  there  was  nothing  left  to  eat.  Then,  coming 
back  to  his  place  before  the  fire,  he  looked  at  Zer- 


WEARY  DREARY  DAYS         137 

bino  and  Dulcie.  The  look  clearly  signified  that 
they  would  get  nothing  more;  then  he  stretched 
himself  out  his  entire  length  with  a  sigh  of  resig- 
nation. "  There  is  nothing  more.  It  is  useless  to 
beg."  He  said  this  to  them  as  plainly  as  though 
he  had  spoken  aloud. 

His  companions,  understanding  this  language, 
also  stretched  out  before  the  fire  sighing,  but  Zer- 
bino's  sigh  in  no  wise  betokened  resignation,  for 
added  to  a  large  appetite,  Zerbino  was  very  much 
of  a  gourmand,  and  this  was  a  greater  sacrifice 
for  him  than  for  the  others. 

The  snow  had  commenced  to  fall  again;  it  fell 
persistently.  We  could  see  the  white  carpet  on 
the  ground  rise  higher  and  higher  until  the  small 
shrubs  and  bushes  were  hidden  beneath  it.  When 
night  came,  big  flakes  were  still  falling  from  the 
black  sky  onto  the  shimmering  earth. 

As  we  had  to  sleep  there,  the  best  thing  to  do  was 
to  go  to  sleep  as  quickly  as  possible.  I  wrapped 
myself  up  in  my  sheepskin,  which  I  had  dried 
by  the  fire  during  the  day,  and  I  laid  down  beside 
the  fire,  my  head  on  a  flat  stone  which  served  for 
a  pillow. 

"  You  go  to  sleep,"  said  Vitalis;  "  I'll  wake  you 
when  it's  my  turn,  for  although  we  have  nothing 
to  fear  from  animals  or  people  in  this  cabin,  one 
of  us  must  keep  awake  to  see  that  the  fire  does  not 
go  out.  We  must  be  careful  not  to  get  cold,  for  it 
will  be  bitter  when  the  enow  stops." 


138 NOBODY'S  BOY 

I  slept.  In  the  small  hours  of  the  night  my  mas- 
ter woke  me.  The  fire  was  still  burning,  and  the 
snow  had  stopped  falling. 

"It's  my  turn  to  sleep  now,"  said  Vitalis;  "as 
the  fire  goes  down  you  throw  on  this  wood  that 
I've  got  already  here." 

He  had  piled  up  a  heap  of  small  wood  by  the 
grate.  My  master,  who  slept  much  lighter  than 
I,  did  not  wish  me  to  wake  him  by  pulling  down 
the  wood  from  the  walls  each  time  I  needed  it. 
So  from  this  heap  that  he  had  prepared,  I  could 
take  the  wood  and  throw  on  the  fire  without  mak- 
ing a  noise.  It  was  a  wise  thing  to  do,  but  alas, 
Vitalis  did  not  know  what  the  result  would  be. 

He  stretched  out  now  before  the  fire  with  Pretty- 
Heart  in  his  coverlet  cuddled  up  against  him,  and 
soon,  from  his  deep  breathing,  I  knew  that  he  had 
fallen  asleep.  Then  I  got  up  softly  and  went  to 
the  opening  to  see  how  it  looked  outside. 

All  the  grass,  the  bushes,  and  the  trees  were 
buried  in  snow.  Everywhere  the  eye  rested  was 
a  dazzling  white.  The  sky  was  dotted  with  twin- 
kling stars,  but  although  they  were  so  bright  it 
was  the  snow  which  shed  the  pale  light  over  the 
earth.  It  was  much  colder  now;  it  was  freezing 
hard. 

Oh!  what  should  we  have  done  in  the  depths  of 
the  forest  in  the  snow  and  the  cold  if  we  had  not 
found  this  shelter? 

Although  I  had  walked  on  tiptoe  to  the  opening 
without  scarcely  making  a  sound,  I  had  roused  the 


WEARY  DREARY  DAYS         139 

dogs,  and  Zerbino  had  followed  me.  The  splendor 
of  the  night  was  nothing  to  him;  he  looked  on  the 
scene  for  a  moment,  and  then  became  bored  and 
wanted  to  go  outside.  I  ordered  him  to  return  to 
his  place.  Foolish  dog,  wasn't  it  better  to  stay  by 
the  warm  fire  in  this  terrible  cold  than  to  go  prowl- 
ing around.  He  obeyed  me,  but  with  a  very  bad 
grace,  and  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  entrance.  I 
stayed  there  for  a  few  minutes  longer,  looking  at 
the  white  night.  It  was  beautiful,  but  although 
I  enjoyed  it,  somehow  I  felt  a  vague  sadness.  I 
could  have  gone  inside  and  not  looked,  of  course, 
but  the  white,  mysterious  scene  held  me  fascinated. 

At  last  I  went  back  to  the  fire  and  having  placed 
two  or  three  long  pieces  of  wood  cross  ways  upon 
one  another,  I  sat  down  on  the  stone  which  had 
served  me  for  a  pillow.  My  master  was  sleeping 
calmly;  the  dogs  and  Pretty-Heart  also  slept,  and 
the  flames  leaped  from  the  fire  and  swirled  upward 
to  the  roof,  throwing  out  bright  sparks.  The  splut- 
tering flame  was  the  only  sound  that  broke  the 
silence  of  the  night.  For  a  long  time  I  watched 
the  sparks,  then  little  by  little  I  began  to  get 
drowsy,  without  my  being  aware. 

If  I  had  been  compelled  to  busy  myself  with  get- 
ting the  wood,  I  could  have  kept  awake,  but  seated 
before  the  fire  with  nothing  to  do,  I  became  so 
sleepy,  and  yet  all  the  time  I  thought  that  I  could 
manage  to  keep  awake. 

I  sprang  up  suddenly,  awakened  by  a  violent 
barking!  It  was  night.  I  probably  had  slept  for 


140 NOBODY'S  BOY 

a  long  time  and  the  fire  was  almost  out.  No  flames 
lit  the  hut  now.  Capi  was  barking  loudly,  furi- 
ously. But,  strange!  there  was  no  sound  from 
Zerbino  or  Dulcie. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  cried  Vitalis,  waking  up. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  You've  been  to  sleep,  and  the  fire's  gone  out." 

Capi  had  run  to  the  opening,  but  had  not  ven- 
tured outside.  He  stood  on  the  threshold  barking. 

"What  has  happened?"  I  asked  in  my  turn. 

In  answer  to  Capi's  barks  came  two  or  three 
mournful  howls.  I  recognized  Dulcie's  voice. 
These  howls  came  from  behind  our  hut  and  at  a 
very  short  distance. 

I  was  going  out.  But  Vitalis  put  his  hand  on 
my  shoulder  and  stopped  me. 

"  First,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  command,  "  put 
some  wood  on  the  fire." 

While  I  obeyed,  he  took  a  sprig  from  the  fire  and 
blew  it  out  until  only  the  point  remained  burning. 
He  held  the  torch  in  his  hand. 

"  Come  and  see  what  is  the  matter,"  he  said ; 
"  you  walk  behind  me.  Go  ahead,  Capi." 

As  we  went  out  there  was  a  frightful  howl. 
Capi  drew  back,  cowering  behind  us  in  terror. 

"Wolves!    Where  are  Zerbino  and  Dulcie?" 

What  could  I  say?  The  two  dogs  must  have 
gone  out  while  I  slept.  Zerbino  had  waited  until 
I  was  asleep  and  had  then  crept  out,  and  Dulcie 
had  followed  him.  The  wolves  had  got  hold  of 


WEARY  DREAHY  DAYS         141 

them !  There  was  fear  in  my  master's  voice  when 
he  asked  for  the  dogs. 

"  Take  a  torch,"  he  said,  "  we  must  go  to  their 
aid." 

In  our  village  I  had  heard  them  tell  terrible 
stories  of  wolves,  yet  I  could  not  hesitate.  I  ran 
back  for  a  torch,  then  followed  my  master. 

But  outside  we  could  see  neither  dogs  nor 
wolves.  On  the  snow  we  could  see  only  the  im- 
print of  the  two  dogs'  paws.  We  followed  these 
traces  around  the  hut,  then  at  a  certain  distance 
we  could  see  a  space  in  the  snow  which  looked  as 
though  some  animals  had  been  rolling  in  it. 

"  Go  and  look  for  them,  Capi,"  said  my  master ; 
at  the  same  time  he  whistled  to  attract  Zerbino  and 
Dulcie. 

But  there  was  no  barking  in  reply;  no  sound 
disturbed  the  mournful  silence  of  the  forest,  and 
Capi,  instead  of  running  off  as  he  was  told,  kept 
close  to  us,  giving  every  sign  of  fear.  Capi  who 
was  usually  so  obedient  and  brave! 

There  was  not  sufficient  light  for  us  to  follow  the 
imprints  any  distance.  The  snow  around  us  was 
dazzling,  but  beyond  seemed  all  vague  and  obscure. 

Again  Vitalis  whistled  and  shouted  for  the  miss- 
ing dogs.  There  was  no  answering  bark. 

Oh,  poor  Zerbino;  poor  Dulcie! 

"  The  wolves  have  got  them,"  said  Vitalis ;  "  why 
did  you  let  them  go  out?  " 

Yes,  why?    I  had  nothing  to  say. 


142 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  We  must  go  and  look  for  them,"  I  said  after  a 
pause. 

I  went  before  him,  but  he  stopped  me. 

"  Where  will  you  look  for  them?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know ;  everywhere." 

"We  can't  tell,  in  this  dim  light,  where  they 
have  gone." 

That  was  true,  and  the  snow  came  up  above  our 
knees.  Our  two  torches  together  could  not  pene- 
trate the  shadows. 

"  If  they  do  not  reply,  it  is  because  they  are  a 
long  way  off,"  he  said.  "  We  must  not  go  on ;  the 
wolves  might  attack  us  also.  We  cannot  defend 
ourselves." 

It  was  dreadful  to  have  to  leave  the  poor  dogs 
to  their  fate  —  our  two  friends;  friends  particu- 
larly to  me.  And  the  terrible  part  of  it  was  that 
I  knew  that  I  was  responsible.  If  I  had  not  slept 
they  would  not  have  gone  out. 

My  master  had  turned  back  to  the  hut.  I  fol- 
lowed, looking  back  at  each  step,  stopping  to  listen. 
I  heard  nothing,  and  saw  nothing  but  the  snow. 

When  we  reached  the  hut  another  surprise 
awaited  us.  The  branches  that  I  had  thrown  on 
the  fire  were  aflame  and  lit  up  the  darkest  corners 
of  the  cabin,  but  Pretty-Heart  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  His  coverlets  were  there  before  the  fire,  but 
he  was  not  in  them.  I  called.  Vitalis  called,  but 
he  did  not  appear. 

My  master  said  that  when  he  awoke  the  monkey 
was  beside  him,  so  it  was  while  we  were  out  that 


WEARY  DREAKY  DAYS         143 

he  had  disappeared.  With  our  burning  torches 
held  down  to  the  snowy  earth  we  started  out  to 
look  for  him.  We  found  no  trace  of  him. 

We  returned  to  the  hut  to  see  if  he  were  hidden 
behind  some  faggots.  We  searched  for  a  long  time ; 
ten  times  we  looked  in  the  same  place,  the  same 
corners.  I  climbed  up  on  Vitalis'  shoulders  to 
look  amongst  the  branches  of  which  the  roof  was 
made.  We  called  again  and  again,  but  there  was 
no  answer. 

Vitalis  seemed  angry.  I  was  in  despair.  I 
asked  my  master  if  he  thought  that  the  wolves 
could  have  taken  him  also. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  the  wolves  would  not  dare  come 
into  the  hut.  I  am  afraid  they  got  Zerbino  and 
Dulcie  when  they  went  out,  but  they  did  not  come 
in  here.  It  is  quite  likely  that  Pretty-Heart  was 
terrified  and  has  hidden  himself  somewhere  while 
we  were  outside;  that  is  why  I  am  so  anxious.  In 
this  terrible  weather  he  will  catch  cold,  and  cold  is 
fatal  for  him." 

"  Well,  let  us  keep  on  looking." 

We  went  over  the  ground  again,  but  all  in  vain. 

"  We  must  wait  till  day,"  said  Vitalis. 

"  When  will  it  be  day?  " 

"  In  two  or  three  hours,  I  think." 

Vitalis  sat  down  before  the  fire,  with  his  head 
in  his  hands.  I  did  not  dare  disturb  him.  I  stood 
quite  close  to  him,  only  moving  occasionally  to  put 
some  branches  on  the  fire.  Once  or  twice  he  got 
up  and  went  to  the  door.  He  looked  at  the  sky, 


144 NOBODY'S  BOY 

listened  attentively,  then  came  back  and  sat  down. 
I  would  rather  that  he  had  been  angry  with  me, 
than  that  he  should  be  so  silent  and  sad. 

The  three  hours  passed  slowly.  It  seemed  that 
the  night  would  never  end.  The  stars  were  fading 
from  the  heavens,  the  sky  was  getting  lighter. 
Day  was  breaking.  But  as  morning  came  the  cold 
grew  more  intense ;  the  air  which  came  through  the 
door  froze  us  to  the  bone. 

If  we  did  find  Pretty-Heart,  would  he  be  alive? 

The  snow  had  quite  stopped  falling  now  and 
there  was  a  pinkish  light  in  the  sky  which  foretold 
fine  weather.  As  soon  as  it  was  quite  light,  Vi- 
talis  and  I,  armed  with  a  stout  stick,  left  the  hut. 

Capi  did  not  appear  so  terrified  as  he  had  been 
the  night  before.  With  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  mas- 
ter, he  only  waited  for  a  sign  from  him  to  rush 
forward.  As  we  were  examining  the  ground  for 
Pretty-Heart's  footprints,  Capi  threw  back  his 
head  and  began  to  bark  joyfully.  He  signified 
that  we  must  look  up,  not  on  the  ground. 

In  the  great  oak  standing  by  the  hut  we  found 
him. 

Poor  Pretty-Heart!  Frightened  by  the  howling 
of  the  dogs,  he  had  jumped  onto  the  roof  of  the 
cabin  when  we  had  gone  out,  and  from  there  he 
had  climbed  to  the  top  of  an  oak,  where,  feeling 
that  he  was  in  a  safe  place,  he  had  remained 
crouching,  without  replying  to  our  calls. 

The  poor  little  frail  creature,  he  must  be  frozen ! 

My  master  called  him  gently.    He  did  not  move. 


WEARY  DREARY  DAYS         145 

We  thought  that  he  was  already  dead.  For  sev- 
eral minutes  Vitalis  continued  to  call  him,  but  the 
monkey  gave  no  sign  of  life.  My  heart  ached  with 
remorse.  How  severely  I  was  being  punished!  I 
must  atone. 

"  I'll  go  up  and  get  him,"  I  said. 

"  You'll  break  your  neck." 

"  No,  there  is  no  danger.     I  can  do  it  easily." 

That  was  not  true.  There  was  danger.  It  was 
very  difficult,  for  the  large  tree  was  covered  with 
ice  and  snow. 

When  I  was  quite  small  I  had  learned  to  climb 
trees,  and  I  was  quite  an  adept  in  this  art.  I 
jumped  and  caught  hold  of  the  lowest  branches. 
I  held  onto  these,  and,  although  blinded  by  the 
snow  that  fell  in  my  eyes,  I  managed  to  climb  up 
the  trunk  to  the  stronger  branches.  Once  up  there 
I  had  only  to  be  careful  not  to  lose  my  footing. 

As  I  climbed  I  spoke  softly  to  Pretty-Heart.  He 
did  not  move,  but  looked  at  me  with  shining  eyes. 
I  had  almost  reached  him  and  was  about  to  stretch 
out  my  hand,  when,  with  a  spring,  he  had  jumped 
to  another  branch.  I  followed  him  to  this  branch, 
but  men,  alas,  and  even  youngsters  are  very  in- 
ferior to  monkeys  when  it  comes  to  climbing  trees. 
It  is  quite  possible  that  I  should  never  have  caught 
him  if  the  snow  had  not  wet  his  feet.  He  did  not 
like  this  and  soon  got  tired  of  dodging  me;  then, 
letting  himself  drop  from  branch  to  branch,  he 
jumped  straight  onto  his  master's  shoulders  and 
hid  himself  inside  his  coat 


146 NOBODY'S  BOY 

It  was  a  great  thing  to  have  found  Pretty-Heart, 
but  that  was  not  all.  Now  we  had  to  look  for  the 
dogs. 

It  was  day  now  and  easy  for  us  to  see  what  had 
happened.  In  the  snow  wre  read  the  death  of  our 
dogs.  We  followed  their  footprints  for  thirty 
yards.  They  had  come  out  of  the  hut,  one  behind 
the  other,  Dulcie  following  Zerbino.  Then  we  saw 
other  footprints.  On  one  side  there  were  signs  of 
a  struggle  where  the  wolves  had  sprung  upon  the 
dogs,  and  on  the  other  sides  were  the  footprints  of 
the  wolves  where  they  trotted  off,  carrying  their 
prey  with  them,  to  be  devoured  at  their  leisure. 
There  was  no  trace  of  the  dogs  except  a  red  trail  of 
blood  which  here  and  there  stained  the  snow. 

The  two  poor  dogs  had  gone  to  their  death  while 
I  slept ! 

We  had  to  get  busy  as  quickly  as  possible  with 
warming  Pretty-Heart.  We  hurried  back  to  the 
hut.  While  Vitalis  held  out  the  little  creature's 
feet  and  hands  to  the  fire,  as  one  holds  a  tiny  baby, 
I  warmed  his  coverlets  and  we  rolled  him  up  in 
them.  But  he  needed  more  than  the  coverlets;  he 
needed  a  warm  drink.  My  master  and  I  sat  by  the 
fire,  silent,  watching  the  wood  burn. 

"  Poor  Zerbino ;  poor  Dulcie !  " 

Each  of  us  murmured  these  words;  first  he, 
then  I. 

The  dogs  had  been  our  friends,  our  companions, 
in  good  and  bad  fortune,  and  to  me  in  my  loneli- 
ness they  had  meant  so  much.  How  deeply  I 


WEARY  DREARY  DAYS        147 

reproached  myself  for  not  having  kept  watch. 
The  wolves  would  not  have  come  to  attack  us  in 
our  cabin ;  they  would  have  stayed  in  the  distance, 
frightened  by  the  fire. 

If  only  Vitalis  would  have  scolded  me !  I  wished 
that  he  would  beat  me.  But  he  said  nothing.  He 
did  not  even  look  at  me.  He  sat  with  his  head 
bent  over  the  fire,  probably  wondering  what  would 
become  of  us  without  the  dogs. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  DEATH   OF  PRETTY-HEART 

THE  sun  came  out  brightly.  Its  rays  fell  on 
the  white  snow,  and  the  forest,  which  the 
night  before  had  looked  so  bleak  and  livid,  was  now 
dazzling  with  a  radiancy  that  blinded  the  eyes. 
Several  times  Vitalis  passed  his  hand  under  the 
coverlet  to  feel  Pretty-Heart,  but  the  poor  little 
monkey  did  not  get  warmer,  and  when  I  bent  over 
him  I  could  hear  him  shivering  and  shaking.  The 
blood  in  his  veins  was  frozen. 

"  We  must  get  to  a  village  or  Pretty -Heart  will 
die,"  said  Vitalis.  "  Let  us  start  at  once." 

His  wrappings  were  well  heated  and  the  little 
creature  was  rolled  in  them.  My  master  placed 
him  under  his  vest,  next  his  heart.  We  were  ready. 

"  This  was  a  shelter/'  said  Vitalis,  looking  round 
the  hut  as  we  were  going  out,  "  that  has  made  us 
pay  dearly  for  its  hospitality."  His  voice  trem- 
bled. 

He  went  out  first,  and  I  followed  in  his  foot- 
steps. When  we  had  gone  a  few  yards  we  had  to 
call  to  Capi.  Poor  dog,  he  had  remained  standing 
outside  the  hut,  his  nose  turned  to  the  spot  where 
his  companions  had  been  taken  by  the  wolves. 

Ten  minutes  later  we  reached  the  main  road. 

148 


DEATH  OF  PRETTY-HEART     149 

We  passed  a  cart ;  the  driver  told  us  that  within  an 
hour  we  should  reach  a  village.  This  was  encour- 
aging, yet  it  was  difficult,  even  painful,  to  walk. 
The  snow  came  up  to  my  waist.  Many  times  I 
asked  Vitalis  after  Pretty-Heart.  Each  time  he 
told  me  that  he  was  still  shivering.  At  last  we 
saw  the  white  roofs  of  a  fair  sized  village.  We 
were  not  in  the  habit  of  putting  up  at  the  better 
class  inns.  We  always  chose  a  poor  place,  where 
we  were  sure  we  should  not  be  driven  away,  and 
where  they  would  not  take  all  we  had. 

But  this  time  Vitalis  went  into  an  inn  where  a 
beautiful  sign  hung  outside  the  kitchen  door.  The 
door  was  open  and  we  could  see  the  great  stove 
covered  with  shining  copper  saucepans,  from 
which  the  steam  was  rising.  Ah,  how  good  that 
soup  smelled  to  the  famished  wanderers! 

My  master,  putting  on  his  most  "  gentlemanly  " 
airs,  and  with  his  hat  on  his  head  and  his  head 
thrown  back,  asked  the  landlady  for  a  good  bed 
and  a  fire.  At  first  the  landlady,  who  was  a  fine 
looking  woman,  had  not  condescended  to  notice  us, 
but  Vitalis'  grand  manner  evidently  impressed  her. 
She  spoke  to  a  maid  and  told  her  to  take  us  up  to 
a  room. 

"Quick,  get  into  bed,"  said  Vitalis,  while  the 
servant  was  lighting  the  fire.  I  looked  at  him  in 
astonishment.  Why  go  to  bed?  I  would  rather 
sit  down  and  eat  something  than  go  to  bed. 

"  Quick,  hurry  up,"  repeated  Vitalis. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  obey. 


150 NOBODY'S  BOY 

There  was  an  eiderdown  quilt  on  the  bed.  Vi- 
talis  pulled  it  right  up  to  my  chin. 

"  Try  and  get  warm,"  he  said ;  "  the  warmer  you 
are  the  better." 

It  seemed  to  me  that  Pretty-Heart  needed  warm- 
ing much  more  than  I,  because  I  was  not  very  cold 
now.  While  I  laid  still  under  the  eiderdown  try- 
ing to  get  warm,  Vitalis,  to  the  servant's  astonish- 
ment, turned  little  Pretty-Heart  round  and  round 
before  the  fire  as  though  he  were  going  to  roast 
him. 

"Are  you  warm?  "  Vitalis  asked  me  after  a  few 
minutes. 

"  I'm  suffocating." 
"That's  right." 

He  came  to  the  bed  quickly.  He  put  Pretty- 
Heart  in,  telling  me  to  hold  him  close  to  my  chest. 
The  poor  little  animal,  wTho  always  rebelled  when 
he  was  made  to  do  something  that  he  did  not  want, 
seemed  resigned  to  everything.  He  let  me  hold 
him  close  to  my  body  without  making  a  movement. 
But  he  wras  not  cold  now ;  his  body  wras  burning. 

My  master,  who  had  gone  down  to  the  kitchen, 
soon  returned,  carrying  a  bowl  of  well  sweetened 
wine.  He  tried  to  make  Pretty-Heart  drink  a  few 
spoonfuls,  but  the  poor  little  creature  could  not 
unclench  his  teeth.  With  his  brilliant  eyes  he 
looked  at  us  imploringly  as  though  to  ask  us  not 
to  torment  him.  Then  he  drew  one  arm  from 
under  the  covers  and  held  it  out  to  us. 
I  wondered  what  he  meant.  I  looked  inquiringly 


DEATH  OF  PRETTY-HEART    151 

at  Vitalis,  who  explained :  Before  I  had  met  them 
Pretty-Heart  had  had  inflammation  of  the  lungs 
and  they  had  had  to  bleed  him,  taking  the  blood 
from  his  arm.  Knowing  that  he  was  sick  now  he 
wanted  us  to  bleed  him  so  that  he  could  get  better 
as  before. 

Poor  little  monkey !  Vitalis  was  touched  to  the 
heart,  and  this  made  him  still  more  anxious.  It 
was  evident  that  Pretty-Heart  was  ill  and  he  must 
be  very  ill  indeed  to  refuse  the  sugared  wine  that 
he  liked  so  much. 

"  Drink  the  wine,  Remi,  and  stay  in  bed,"  said 
Vitalis.  "  I'll  go  for  a  doctor." 

I  must  admit  that  I  also  liked  sugared  wine  and 
besides  I  was  very  hungry.  I  did  not  let  him  tell 
me  twice  to  drink  it.  After  I  had  emptied  the 
bowl  I  slid  down  under  the  eiderdown  again,  where 
the  heat,  aided  by  the  wine,  nearly  suffocated  me. 

Vitalis  was  not  gone  long.  He  soon  returned, 
bringing  with  him  a  gentleman  wearing  gold- 
riinmed  spectacles  —  the  doctor.  Thinking  that 
the  doctor  might  not  put  himself  out  for  a  monkey, 
Vitalis  had  not  told  him  who  was  his  patient. 
When  he  saw  me  in  bed,  as  red  as  a  tomato,  the 
doctor  put  his  hand  on  my  forehead  and  said  at 
once :  "  Congestion." 

He  shook  his  head  with  an  air  which  augured 
nothing  good. 

Anxious  to  undeceive  him  for  fear  he  might  bleed 
me,  I  cried :  "  Why,  I'm  not  ill !  " 

"  Not  ill !     Why,  the  child  is  delirious." 


152 NOBODY'S  BOY 

I  lifted  the  quilt  'a  bit  and  showed  him  Pretty- 
Heart,  who  had  placed  his  little  arm  round  my 
neck. 

"  He's  the  one  that's  ill/'  I  said. 

"  A  monkey !  "  he  exclaimed,  turning  angrily  to 
Vitalis.  "  You've  brought  me  out  in  such  weather 
to  see  a  monkey!  .  .  ." 

Our  master  was  a  smart  man  who  was  not  easily 
ruffled.  Politely,  and  with  his  grand  air,  he 
stopped  the  doctor.  Then  he  explained  the  situa- 
tion, how  he  had  been  caught  in  a  snowstorm,  and 
how  through  fear  of  the  wolves  Pretty-Heart  had 
jumped  up  in  an  oak  tree,  where  he  had  been  al- 
most frozen  to  death.  The  patient  might  be  only 
a  monkey,  but  what  a  genius!  and  what  a  friend 
and  companion  to  us !  How  could  we  confide  such 
a  wonderful,  talented  creature  to  the  care  of  a 
simple  veterinary  surgeon?  Every  one  knew  that 
the  village  veterinary  was  an  ass,  while  every  one 
knew  that  doctors  were  scientific  men,  even  in  the 
smallest  village.  If  one  rings  at  a  door  which 
bears  a  doctor's  name,  one,  is  sure  to  find  a  man 
of  knowledge,  and  of  generosity.  Although  the 
monkey  is  only  an  animal,  according  to  naturalists 
they  are  so  near  like  men.  that  often  an  illness  is 
treated  the  same  for  one  as  for  the  other.  And 
was  it  not  interesting,  from  a  scientific  point  of 
view,  to  study  how  these  illnesses  differed.  The 
doctor  soon  returned  from  the  door  where  he  had 
been  standing. 

Pretty-Heart,  who  had  probably  guessed  that 


DEATH  OF  PRETTY-HEABT     158 

this  person  wearing  the  spectacles  was  a  physician, 
again  pushed  out  his  arm. 

"  Look,"  cried  Vitalis,  "  he  wants  you  to  bleed 
him." 

That  settled  the  doctor. 

"  Most  interesting ;  a  very  interesting  case,"  he 
murmured. 

Alas!  after  examining  him,  the  doctor  told  us 
that  poor  little  Pretty-Heart  again  had  inflamma- 
tion of  the  lungs.  The  doctor  took  his  arm  and 
thrust  a  lancet  into  a  vein  without  him  making 
the  slightest  moan.  Pretty-Heart  knew  that  this 
ought  to  cure  him. 

After  the  bleeding  he  required  a  good  deal  of  at- 
tention. I,  of  course,  had  not  stayed  in  bed.  I 
was  the  nurse,  carrying  out  Vitalis'  instructions. 

Poor  little  Pretty-Heart!  he  liked  me  to  nurse 
him.  He  looked  at  me  and  smiled  sadly.  His 
look  was  quite  human.  He,  who  was  usually  so 
quick  and  petulant,  always  playing  tricks  on  one 
of  us,  was  now  quiet  and  obedient. 

In  the  days  that  followed  he  tried  to  show  us 
how  friendly  he  felt  towards  us,  even  to  Capi,  who 
had  so  often  been  the  victim  of  his  tricks.  As  in 
the  usual  trend  of  inflammation  of  the  lungs,  he 
soon  began  to  cough ;  the  attacks  tired  him  greatly, 
for  his  little  body  shook  convulsively.  AJ1  the 
money  which  I  had,  five  sous,  I  spent  on  sugar 
sticks  for  him,  but  they  made  him  worse  instead  of 
better.  With  his  keen  instinct,  he  soon  noticed 
that  every  time  he  coughed  I  gave  him  a  little  piece 


154 NOBODY'S  BOY 

of  sugar  stick.  He  took  advantage  of  this  and 
coughed  every  moment  in  order  to  get  the  remedy 
that  he  liked  so  much,  and  this  remedy  instead  of 
curing  him  made  him  worse. 

When  I  found  out  this  trick  I  naturally  stopped 
giving  him  the  candy,  but  he  was  not  discouraged. 
First  he  begged  for  it  with  an  appealing  look ;  then 
when  he  saw  that  I  would  not  give  it  to  him,  he 
sat  up  in  his  seat  and  bent  his  little  body  with  his 
hand  on  his  stomach,  and  coughed  with  all  his 
might.  The  veins  in  his  forehead  stood  out,  the 
tears  ran  from  his  eyes,  and  his  pretense  at  chok- 
ing, in  the  end,  turned  to  a  dreadful  attack  over 
which  he  had  no  control. 

I  had  to  stay  at  the  inn  with  Pretty-Heart  while 
my  master  went  out  alone.  One  morning  upon  his 
return  he  told  me  that  the  landlady  had  demanded 
the  sum  that  we  owed  her.  This  was  the  first  time 
that  he  had  ever  spoken  to  me  about  money.  It 
was  quite  by  chance  that  I  had  learned  that  he  had 
sold  his  watch  to  buy  my  sheepskin.  Now  he  told 
me  that  he  had  only  fifty  sous  left. 

The  only  thing  to  do,  he  said,  was  to  give  a  per- 
formance that  same  day.  A  performance  without 
Zerbino,  Dulcie  or  Pretty-Heart ;  why,  that  seemed 
to  me  impossible! 

"We  must  get  forty  francs  at  once,"  he  said. 
"  Pretty-Heart  must  be  looked  after.  We  must 
have  a  fire  in  the  room,  and  medicine,  and  the  land- 
lady must  be  paid.  If  we  pay  her  what  we  owe 
her,  she  will  give  us  another  credit." 


DEATH  OF  PRETTY-HEART     155 

Forty  francs  in  this  village!  in  the  cold,  and 
with  such  poor  resources  at  our  command ! 

While  I  stayed  at  home  with  Pretty-Heart,  Vi- 
talis  found  a  hall  in  the  public  market,  for  an  out- 
of-door  performance  was  out  of  the  question.  He 
wrote  the  announcements  and  stuck  them  up  all 
over  the  village.  With  a  few  planks  of  wood  he 
arranged  a  stage,  and  bravely  spent  his  last  fifty 
sous  to  buy  some  candles,  which  he  cut  in  half  so 
as  to  double  the  lights. 

From  the  window  of  our  room  I  saw  him  come 
and  go,  tramping  back  and  forth  in  the  snow.  I 
wondered  anxiously  what  program  he  could  make. 
I  was  soon  enlightened  on  this  subject,  for  along 
came  the  town  crier  of  the  village,  wearing  a  scar- 
let cap,  and  stopped  before  the  inn.  After  a  mag- 
nificent roll  of  his  drum  he  read  out  our  program. 

Vitalis  had  made  the  most  extravagant  prom- 
ises! There  was  to  be  present  a  world-renowned 
artist  —  that  was  Capi  —  and  a  young  singer  who 
was  a  marvel;  the  marvel  was  myself.  But  the 
most  interesting  part  of  the  farce  was  that  there 
was  no  fixed  price  for  the  entertainment.  We  re- 
lied upon  the  generosity  of  the  audience,  and  the 
public  need  not  pay  until  after  it  had  seen,  heard, 
and  applauded. 

That  seemed  to  me  extraordinarily  bold.  Who 
was  going  to  applaud  us?  Capi  certainly  deserved 
to  be  celebrated,  but  I  ...  I  was  not  at  all  con- 
vinced that  I  was  a  marvel. 

Although  Pretty-Heart  was  very  ill  at  this  mo- 


156 NOBODY'S  BOY 

merit,  when  he  heard  the  drum,  he  tried  to  get  up. 
From  the  noise  and  Capi's  barks,  he  seemed  to 
guess  that  it  was  to  announce  our  performance. 

I  had  to  force  him  back  on  his  bed ;  then  he  made 
signs  to  me  to  give  him  his  general's  uniform  — 
the  red  coat  and  trousers  with  gold  braid,  and  hat 
with  the  plume.  He  clasped  his  hands  and  went 
down  on  his  knees  to  beg  me.  When  he  saw  that 
he  could  get  nothing  from  me  by  begging,  he  tried 
what  anger  would  do,  then  finally  melted  into  tears. 
It  was  evident  that  we  should  have  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  to  convince  him  that  he  must  give  up  all 
idea  of  playing  that  night.  I  thought  it  would  be 
better  not  to  let  him  know  when  we  started. 

When  Vitalis  returned,  he  told  me  to  get  my 
harp  ready  and  all  the  things  we  required  for  the 
entertainment.  Pretty-Heart,  who  knew  what  this 
meant,  turned  to  his  master  and  commenced  his 
entreaties  again.  He  could  not  have  better  ex- 
pressed his  desires  than  by  the  sounds  he  uttered, 
the  twisting  of  his  face,  and  the  turns  of  his  body. 
There  were  real  tears  on  his  cheeks  and  they  were 
real  kisses  that  he  imprinted  on  Vitalis'  hand. 

"  You  want  to  play? "  asked  Vitalis,  who  had 
not  been  told  what  happened  before. 

"  Yes,  oh,  yes ! "  Pretty-Heart's  whole  person 
seemed  to  cry  out.  He  tried  to  jump  to  show  that 
he  was  no  longer  sick.  We  knew  very  well  that 
if  we  took  him  out  it  would  be  his  death. 

It  was  time  for  us  to  start.  Before  going,  I 
made  up  a  good  fire  and  wrapped  Pretty-Heart  up 


DEATH  OF  PRETTY-HEART    157 

in  his  coverlets.  He  cried  again  and  embraced  me 
as  much  as  he  could,  then  we  started. 

As  we  tramped  through  the  snow,  my  master 
told  me  what  he  expected  of  me.  We  could  not, 
of  course,  give  our  usual  repertoire,  as  our  prin- 
cipal actors  were  missing,  but  Capi  and  I  could 
vie  with  each  other  in  doing  our  best.  We  had  to 
collect  forty  francs!  Forty  francs!  It  was  terri- 
ble !  Impossible ! 

Vitalis  had  prepared  everything.  All  we  had  to 
do  now  was  to  light  the  candles,  but  this  was  an 
extravagance  that  we  could  not  indulge  in  until 
the  room  was  filled,  for  our  illuminations  would 
not  have  to  come  to  an  end  before  our  entertain- 
ment. 

Whilst  we  took  possession  of  our  theater,  the 
town  crier,  with  his  drum,  came  through  the  vil- 
lage streets  for  the  last  time.  After  I  had  dressed 
Capi  and  myself,  I  went  outside  and  stood  behind 
a  pillar  to  watch  the  people  arrive. 

The  roll  of  the  drum  became  louder.  It  was  ap- 
proaching the  market  place  and  I  could  hear  a 
babble  of  voices.  Behind  the  drum  came  a  score 
of  youngsters,  all  keeping  step.  Without  stopping 
the  beating  of  his  drum,  the  town  crier  took  up 
his  place  between  the  two  large  lamps  that  were 
lit  at  the  entrance  of  our  theater.  The  public  had 
only  to  walk  in  and  take  their  seats  for  the  per- 
formance to  commence. 

Alas!  how  long  they  were  coming,  and  yet  the 
drum  at  the  door  continued  gayly  its  rat  ta  ta  ta. 


158 NOBODY'S  BOY 

All  the  boys  in  the  village  must  have  been  there. 
But  it  was  not  the  youngsters  who  were  likely  to 
give  us  forty  francs.  There  would  have  to  be  some 
important  people,  open-handed  and  generous. 

At  last  Vitalis  decided  that  we  ought  to  com- 
mence, although  the  hall  was  far  from  being  full; 
but  we  could  not  wait  longer,  worried  as  we  were 
by  the  terrible  question  of  candles. 

I  had  to  appear  first  and  sing  a  few  songs,  ac- 
companying myself  on  the  harp.  I  must  confess 
the  applause  that  I  received  was  very  weak.  I  had 
never  thought  very  much  of  myself  as  an  enter- 
tainer, but  the  marked  coolness  wTith  which  the 
audience  received  my  efforts  discouraged  me.  If 
I  did  not  please  them  they  would  certainly  not  give 
us  anything.  It  was  not  for  the  glory  that  I  was 
singing;  it  was  for  poor  Pretty-Heart.  Ah,  how 
I  wanted  to  stir  this  public,  to  make  them  enthu- 
siastic. .  .  .  But  I  could  see  only  too  well  that 
the^  did  not  consider  me  a  marvel. 

Capi  was  more  successful.  He  received  several 
encores.  Thanks  to  Capi,  the  entertainment  ended 
in  a  burst  of  applause.  Not  only  did  they  clap 
their  hands,  but  they  stamped  their  feet. 

The  decisive  moment  had  arrived.  While  Capi, 
with  the  cup  in  his  jaws,  ran  through  the  audience, 
I  danced  a  Spanish  dance  on  the  stage,  with  Vi- 
talis playing  an  accompaniment.  Would  Capi 
collect  forty  francs?  That  was  the  question  which 
made  my  heart  beat  while  I  smiled  at  the  public 
in  my  pleasantest  manner. 


DEATH  OF  PRETTY-HEART     159 

I  was  out  of  breath,  but  I  still  continued  to 
dance,  for  I  was  not  to  stop  until  Capi  had  re- 
turned. He  did  not  hurry  himself ;  when  he  found 
that  he  did  not  receive  a  coin,  he  placed  his  paw 
against  the  person's  pocket.  At  last  I  saw  him 
about  to  return,  and  thought  that  I  might  stop,  but 
Vitalis  made  me  a  sign  to  go  on. 

I  continued  to  dance,  and  going  a  few  steps 
nearer  Capi,  I  saw  that  the  cup  was  not  full;  far 
from  it.  Vitalis  had  also  seen  this.  Bowing  to 
the  audience,  he  said: 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  think  that,  without 
flattering  ourselves,  we  have  conscientiously  car- 
ried out  our  program,  yet  as  our  candles  are  still 
burning,  I  will,  if  the  public  wishes,  sing  some 
songs  myself.  Our  dog,  Capi,  will  make  another 
quest  and  those  who  have  not  yet  given  will  per- 
haps give  this  time.  Please  have  your  money 
ready." 

Although  Vitalis  had  been  my  teacher,  I  had 
never  really  heard  him  sing,  or  at  least  not  as  he 
sung  that  evening.  He  selected  two  songs,  an  air 
from  "  Joseph  "  and  one  from  "  Kichard  the  Lion 
Hearted." 

Although  I  was  only  a  little  boy  and  was  no 
judge  as  to  whether  one  sang  with  technique  or 
without,  Vitalis'  singing  stirred  me  strangely.  I 
went  into  a  corner  of  the  stage,  for  my  eyes  filled 
with  tears  as  I  listened  to  his  beautiful  notes. 

Through  a  mist,  I  saw  a  young  lady^who  occu- 
pied the  first  row,  clap  her  hands  with  all  her 


160 NOBODY'S  BOY 

might.  I  had  already  noticed  that  she  was  not  a 
peasant  like  the  rest  of  the  people  in  the  hall.  She 
was  a  lady,  young  and  beautiful,  and  from  her 
handsome  fur  coat  I  took  her  to  be  the  richest 
woman  in  the  village.  She  had  with  her  a  little 
child  who  had  applauded  Capi  heartily.  It  was 
probably  her  son  for  the  likeness  was  striking. 

After  the  first  song,  Capi  went  the  round  again. 
I  saw  with  surprise  that  the  lady  had  not  put  any- 
thing into  his  cup. 

When  my  master  had  finished  the  air  from  the 
second  opera,  she  beckoned  me  to  her. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  that  gentleman,"  she  said. 

I  was  surprised,  I  thought  she  would  have  done 
better  to  have  dropped  something  into  the  cup. 
Capi  returned.  He  had  collected  very  little  more 
on  this  second  round. 

"  What  does  the  lady  want?  "  asked  Vitalis. 

"  To  speak  to  you." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say." 

"  She  did  not  give  anything  to  Capi,  perhaps  she 
would  like  to  give  it  now." 

"  Then  it  is  for  Capi  to  go  to  her,  not  for  me." 

However,  he  decided  to  go,  and  took  the  dog  with 
him.  I  followed  them.  By  now  a  servant  had  ap- 
peared, carrying  a  lantern  and  a  rug.  He  stood 
beside  the  lady  and  the  child.  Vitalis  bowed  coldly 
to  her. 

"  Forgive  me  for  having  disturbed  you,"  she  said, 
"  but  I  wanted  to  congratulate  you." 

Vitalis  bowed,  without  saying  a  word. 


DEATH  OF  PRETTY-HEART    161 

"  I  am  a  musician,"  continued  the  lady ;  "  I  am 
telling  you  this  so  that  you  will  know  how  much 
I  appreciate  your  superb  talent." 

Superb  talent!  My  master!  The  dog  trainer! 
I  was  amazed. 

"  An  old  man  like  me  has  no  talent,"  he  replied 
coldly. 

"  Do  not  think  that  I  am  inquisitive,  but  .  .  ." 
began  the  lady. 

"  I  am  quite  willing  to  satisfy  your  curiosity, 
Madam,"  he  said;  "you  are  surprised  that  a  dog 
trainer  is  able  to  sing  a  little.  But  I  have  not  al- 
ways been  what  I  am  now.  When  I  was  younger 
I  was  .  .  .  the  servant  of  a  great  singer,  and  like 
a  parrot  I  imitated  him.  I  began  to  repeat  some 
of  the  songs  he  practiced  in  my  presence.  That  is 
all." 

The  lady  did  not  reply.  She  looked  hard  at  Vi- 
talis.  He  seemed  embarrassed. 

"  Good-by,  sir,"  she  said  at  last,  laying  a  stress 
on  the  word  "  sir."  "  Good-by,  and  once  more  let 
me  thank  you  for  the  exquisite  delight  you  have 
given  me  this  evening."  And  leaning  towards 
Capi  she  dropped  a  gold  piece  in  his  cup. 

I  thought  that  Vitalis  would  escort  her  to  the 
door,  but  he  did  nothing  of  the  kind,  and  when 
she  was  out  of  hearing  I  heard  him  swear  softly  in 
Italian. 

"  She  gave  Capi  a  louis,"  I  said. 

I  thought  he  was  going  to  give  me  a  blow,  but  he 
let  his  raised  hand  fall  to  his  side. 


162 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"A  louis,"  he  said,  as  though  he  were  coming 
out  of  a  dream.  "Ah,  yes,  poor  Pretty-Heart.  I 
had  forgotten  him.  Let  us  go  back  to  the  little 
creature  at  once." 

I  climbed  the  stairs  of  the  inn  first  and  went 
into  the  room.  The  fire  was  not  out,  but  there 
were  no  flames.  I  lit  a  candle  quickly.  I  was 
surprised  not  to  hear  any  sound  from  Pretty- 
Heart.  I  found  him,  lying  under  his  coverlets, 
stretched  out  his  full  length,  dressed  in  his  gen- 
eral's uniform.  He  appeared  to  be  asleep.  I 
leaned  over  him  and  took  his  hand  gently  to  wake 
him  up.  His  hand  was  cold.  Vitalis  came  into 
the  room.  I  turned  to  him. 

"  Pretty-Heart  is  cold,"  I  said. 

My  master  came  to  my  side  and  also  leaned  over 
the  bed. 

"  He  is  dead,"  he  said.  "  It  was  to  be.  Ah, 
Remi,  boy,  I  did  wrong  to  take  you  away  from  Mrs. 
Milligan.  I  am  punished.  Zerbino,  Dulcie,  and 
now  Pretty-Heart,  and  .  .  .  this  is  not  the  end ! " 


CHAPTER  XV 

FAITHFUL  FRIENDS 

WE  were  still  a  long  way  from  Paris.  We  had 
to  go  by  roads  covered  with  snow,  and  walk 
from  morning  till  night,  the  north  wind  blowing 
in  our  faces.  How  sad  and  weary  were  those  long 
tramps. 

Vitalis  walked  ahead,  I  at  his  heels,  and  Capi 
behind  me.  Thus  in  line  we  went  onward  without 
exchanging  a  word,  for  hours  and  hours,  faces  blue 
with  cold,  feet  wet,  stomachs  empty.  The  people 
who  passed  us  on  the  way  turned  round  to  gaze 
at  us.  Evidently  they  thought  it  strange.  .  .  . 
Where  was  this  old  man  leading  his  child  and  the 
dog? 

The  silence  seemed  terrible  to  me,  and  so  sad. 
I  would  liked  to  have  talked  just  for  company,  but 
when  I  did  venture  to  make  a  remark,  Vitalis  re- 
plied briefly,  without  even  turning  his  head.  For- 
tunately, Capi  was  more  sociable,  and  as  I  trudged 
along  I  often  felt  his  warm  tongue  on  my  hand. 
He  licked  me  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Your  friend, 
Capi,  is  here  with  you."  Then  I  stroked  him  gen- 
tly, without  stopping.  We  understood  each  other; 
we  loved  each  other. 

183 


164 NOBODY'S  BOY 

On  the  slippery  snow  we  went  straight  ahead, 
without  stopping,  sleeping  at  night  in  a  stable  or 
in  a  sheepfold,  with  a  piece  of  bread,  alas,  very 
small,  for  our  meal  in  the  evening.  This  was  our 
dinner  and  supper  in  one. 

We  did  not  tell  the  shepherds  that  we  were  dy- 
ing of  hunger,  but  Vitalis,  with  his  usual  clever- 
ness, would  say  insinuatingly  that  "  the  little  chap 
was  very  fond  of  sheep's  milk,  because,  when  he 
was  a  baby,  he  used  to  drink  it."  This  story  did 
not  always  take  effect,  but  it  was  a  good  night  for 
me  when  it  did.  Yes,  I  was  very  fond  of  sheep's 
milk  and  when  they  gave  me  some  I  felt  much 
stronger  the  next  day. 

It  seemed  strange  to  me  that,  as  we  neared  Paris, 
the  country  ceased  to  be  beautiful.  The  snow  was 
not  white  and  dazzling  now.  I  had  heard  what  a 
wonderful  place  Paris  wras,  and  I  expected  some- 
thing extraordinary.  I  did  not  know  exactly  what. 
I  should  not  have  been  surprised  to  see  trees  of 
gold,  streets  of  marble,  palaces  everywhere. 

What  were  we  poor  things  going  to  do  when  we 
reached  Paris?  I  wanted  to  question  Vitalis,  but 
I  did  not  dare,  he  seemed  so  gloomy.  When  we 
wrere  in  sight  of  the  roofs  and  the  church  towers 
of  the  capital,  he  slackened  his  step  to  walk  beside 
me. 

"  Remi,"  he  said  suddenly,  "  we  are  going  to  part 
when  we  get  to  Paris." 

I  looked  at  him.  He  looked  at  me.  The  sud- 
den pallor  of  my  face  and  the  trembling  of  my  lips 


FAITHFUL  FRIENDS 


told  him  what  effect  his  words  had  on  me.  For  a 
moment  I  could  not  speak. 

"  Going  to  part!  "  I  murmured  at  last. 

"  Poor  little  chap,  yes,  we  must  part." 

The  tone  in  which  he  said  this  brought  the  tears 
to  my  eyes.  It  was  so  long  since  I  had  heard  a 
kind  word. 

"  Oh,  you  are  so  good,"  I  cried. 

"  It  is  you  who  are  good.  You  brave  little  heart. 
There  comes  a  time  in  one's  life  when  one  feels 
these  things.  When  all  goes  well,  one  goes  along 
through  life  without  thinking  much  who  is  with 
one,  but  when  things  go  wrong,  when  one  is  on  the 
wrong  track,  and  above  all  when  one  is  old,  one 
wants  to  lean  on  somebody.  You  may  be  surprised 
that  I  have  wanted  to  lean  on  you.  And  yet  it  is 
so.  But  only  to  see  that  your  eyes  are  moist  as 
you  listen  to  me,  comforts  me,  little  Remi.  I  am 
very  unhappy." 

I  did  not  know  what  to  say.  I  just  stroked  his 
hand. 

"And  the  misfortune  is  that  we  have  to  part 
just  at  the  time  when  we  are  getting  nearer  to  each 
other." 

"  But  you're  not  going  to  leave  me  all  alone  in 
Paris?  "  I  asked  timidly. 

"  No,  certainly  not.  What  would  you  do  in  the 
big  city,  all  by  yourself,  poor  child.  I  have  no 
right  to  leave  you,  remember  that.  The  day  when 
I  would  not  let  that  good  lady  take  you  and  bring 
you  up  as  her  son,  that  day  I  bound  myself  to  do 


166 NOBODY'S  BOY 

the  best  I  could  for  you.  I  can  do  nothing  at  this 
moment,  and  that  is  why  I  think  it  is  best  to  part. 
It  is  only  for  a  time.  We  can  do  better  if  we  sepa- 
rate during  the  last  months  of  the  bad  season. 
What  can  we  do  in  Paris  with  all  gone  but 
Capi? " 

Hearing  his  name  mentioned,  dear  Capi  came 
beside  us:  he  put  his  paw  to  his  ear  in  military 
salute,  then  placed  it  on  his  heart,  as  though  to 
tell  us  that  we  could  count  on  his  devotion.  My 
master  stopped  to  pass  his  hand  affectionately  over 
the  dog's  head. 

"Yes,  Capi,  you're  a  good,  faithful  friend,  but, 
alas !  without  the  others  we  can't  do  much  now." 

"But  my  harp  .  .  ." 

"  If  I  had  two  children  like  you  it  would  be  bet- 
ter. But  an  old  man  with  just  one  little  boy  is  bad 
business.  I  am  not  old  enough.  Now,  if  I  were 
only  blind  or  broken  down !  I  am  not  in  a  pitiful 
state  enough  for  people  to  stop  and  notice  us.  So, 
mv  b°v>  I  have  decided  to  give  you  to  a  padrone, 
until  the  end  of  the  winter.  He  will  take  you  with 
other  children  that  he  has,  and  you  will  play  your 
harp.  .  .  ." 

"And  you?"  I  asked. 

"  I  am  known  in  Paris,  I  have  stayed  there  sev- 
eral times.  I  will  give  violin  lessons  to  the  Italian 
children  who  play  on  the  streets.  I  have  only  to 
say  that  I  will  give  lessons  to  find  all  the  pupils 
I  want.  And,  in  the  meantime,  I  will  train  two 
dogs  that  will  replace  poor  Zerbino  and  Dulcie. 


FAITHFUL  FRIENDS  167 

Then  in  the  spring  we  will  be  together  again,  my 
little  Remi.  We  are  only  passing  through  a  bad 
time  now ;  later,  I  will  take  you  through  Germany 
and  England,  then  you  will  grow  big  and  your 
mind  will  develop.  I  will  teach  you  a  lot  of  things 
and  make  a  man  of  you.  I  promised  this  to  Mrs. 
Milligan.  I  will  keep  my  promise.  That  is  the 
reason  why  I  have  already  commenced  to  teach 
you  English.  You  can  speak  French  and  Italian, 
that  is  something  for  a  child  of  your  age." 

Perhaps  it  was  all  for  the  best  as  my  master 
said,  but  I  could  only  think  of  two  things. 

We  were  to  be  parted,  and  I  was  to  have  a 
padrone. 

During  our  wanderings  I  had  met  several  pa- 
drones  who  used  to  beat  the  children  who  worked 
for  them.  They  were  very  cruel,  and  they  swore, 
and  usually  they  were  drunk.  Would  I  belong  to 
one  of  those  terrible  men? 

And  then,  even  if  fate  gave  me  a  kind  master,  it 
was  another  change.  First,  my  foster  mother, 
then  Vitalis,  then  another  .  .  .  Was  it  to  be  al- 
ways so?  Should  I  never  find  anyone  that  I  could 
love  and  stay  with  always.  Little  by  little  I  had 
grown  attached  to  Vitalis.  He  seemed  almost 
what  I  thought  a  father  would  be.  Should  I  never 
have  a  father,  have  a  family.  Always  alone  in  this 
great  world!  Nobody's  boy! 

Vitalis  had  asked  me  to  be  brave.  I  did  not 
wish  to  add  to  his  sorrows,  but  it  was  hard,  so  hard, 
to  leave  him. 


168 NOBODY'S  BOY 

As  we  walked  down  a  dirty  street,  with  heaps  of 
snow  on  either  side  covered  with  cinders  and  rot- 
ten vegetables,  I  asked :  "  Where  are  we?  " 

"  In  Paris,  my  boy." 

Where  were  my  marble  houses?  And  the  trees 
of  gold,  and  the  finely  dressed  people.  Was  this 
Paris!  Was  I  to  spend  the  winter  in  a  place  like 
this,  parted  from  Vitalis  and  Capi? 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  PADRONE 

A  LTHOUGH  I  knew  later  how  beautiful  was 
JLJL  the  city  of  Paris,  the  slums,  being  my  first 
glimpse,  created  anything  but  a  favorable  impres- 
sion. 

Vitalis,  who  seemed  to  know  his  way,  pushed 
through  the  groups  of  people  who  obstructed  his 
passage  along  the  narrow  street  we  had  just  turned 
down. 

"  Mind,  you  don't  lose  me,"  cautioned  Vitalia. 

But  his  warning  was  not  necessary,  for  I  trod 
upon  his  heels,  and  to  be  more  sure  of  him  I  held  a 
corner  of  his  coat  in  my  hand. 

We  crossed  a  big  courtyard  to  a  dirty,  dismal 
house  where  surely  the  sun  had  never  penetrated. 
It  was  the  worst  looking  place  I  had  seen  so  far. 

"  Is  Garofoli  in?  "  asked  Vitalis  of  a  man  who, 
by  the  light  from  a  lantern,  was  hanging  rags 
against  the  door. 

"  I  don't  know;  go  up  and  see  for  yourself,"  he 
growled ;  "  the  door's  at  the  top  of  the  stairs ;  it 
faces  you." 

"Garofoli  is  the  padrone,  Remi,  I  told  you 
about,"  said  Vitalis;  "this  is  where  he  lives." 

The  street,  the  house,  the  staircase  was  not  in 

160 


170 NOBODY'S  BOY 

the  nature  to  reassure  me.  What  would  this  new 
master  be  like? 

Without  knocking,  Vitalis  pushed  open  the  door 
at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  on  the  top  floor,  and  we 
found  ourselves  in  a  large  attic.  There  was  a 
great  empty  space  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and 
all  around  the  walls  were  beds,  a  dozen  in  all. 
The  walls  and  ceiling  that  had  once  been  white 
were  now  filthy  with  smoke,  dust,  and  dirt.  On 
the  walls  was  a  drawing  of  a  head  in  charcoal  and 
some  flowers  and  birds. 

"  Are  you  there,  Garofoli?  "  asked  Vitalis;  "  it  is 
so  dark  I  can't  see  any  one.  It's  Vitalis." 

A  weak,  drawling  voice  replied  to  Vitalis'  ques- 
tion. 

"  Signer  Garofoli  has  gone  out ;  he  will  not  be 
back  for  two  hours." 

A  boy  about  twelve  years  of  age  came  forward. 
I  was  struck  by  his  strange  looks.  Even  now,  as 
I  write,  I  can  see  him  as  I  saw  him  then.  He  had 
no  body,  so  to  speak,  for  he  seemed  all  legs  and 
head.  His  great  head  was  out  of  all  proportion. 
Built  so,  he  could  not  have  been  called  handsome, 
yet  there  was  something  in  his  face  which  attracted 
one  strangely,  an  expression  of  sadness  and  gen- 
tleness and,  yes  .  .  .  hopelessness.  His  large  eyes 
held  your  own  with  sympathy. 

"  You  are  sure  he  will  not  be  back  for  two 
hours?  "  asked  Vitalis. 

"  Quite  sure,  Signor.  That  will  be  dinner  time, 
and  no  one  ever  serves  dinner  but  Signor  Garofoli." 


THE  PADRONE 171 

"  Well,  if  he  comes  in  before,  tell  him  that  Vi- 
talis  will  be  back  in  two  hours." 

"  Very  well,  Signor." 

I  was  about  to  follow  Vitalis,  when  he  stopped 
me. 

"  Stay  here,"  he  said ;  "  you  can  rest 

"  Oh,  I'll  come  back,"  he  added,  reassuringly, 
noticing  my  look  of  anxiety. 

"Are  you  Italian?  "  asked  the  boy,  when  Vitalis' 
heavy  step  could  no  longer  be  heard  on  the  stairs. 

"  No,"  I  replied  in  French,  "  I'm  French." 

"  That's  a  good  thing." 

"What!  you  like  the  French  better  than  the 
Italians?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  I  was  thinking  of  you  when  I  said 
'  that's  a  good  thing/  because  if  you  were  Italian 
you  would  probably  come  here  to  work  for  Signor 
Garofoli,  and  I'd  be  sorry  for  you." 

"  Is  he  wicked,  then?  " 

The  boy  did  not  reply,  but  the  look  he  gave  me 
spoke  more  than  words.  As  though  he  did  not 
wish  to  continue  the  conversation,  he  went  over 
to  the  fireplace.  On  a  shelf  in  the  fireplace  was  an 
immense  earthenware  saucepan.  I  drew  nearer  to 
the  fire  to  warm  myself,  and  I  noticed  that  the  pot 
had  something  peculiar  about  it.  The  lid,  through 
which  a  straight  tube  projected  to  allow  the  steam 
to  escape,  was  fixed  on  the  saucepan  on  one  side 
with  a  hinge  and  on  the  other  with  a  padlock. 

"Why  is  that  closed  with  a  padlock?"  I  asked, 
inquisitively. 


172 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  So  that  I  shan't  take  any  of  the  soup.  I  have 
to  look  after  it,  but  the  boss  doesn't  trust  me." 

I  could  not  help  smiling. 

"  You  laugh,"  he  said  sadly,  "  because  you  think 
that  I'm  a  glutton.  Perhaps,  if  you  were  in  my 
place,  you'd  do  the  same  as  I've  done.  I'm  not  a 
pig,  but  I'm  famished,  and  the  smell  of  the  soup 
as  it  comes  out  through  the  spout  makes  me  still 
hungrier." 

"Doesn't  Signor  Garofoli  give  you  enough  to 
eat?  " 

"  He  starves  us.  .  .  ." 

"Oh  .  .  ." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  have  done,"  went  on  the 
boy,  "  'cause  if  he's  going  to  be  your  master,  it  will 
be  a  lesson  for  you.  My  name  is  Mattia.  Garofoli 
is  my  uncle.  My  mother,  who  lives  in  Lucca  in 
Italy,  is  very  poor  and  has  only  enough  for  herself 
and  my  little  sister,  Christina.  When  Garofoli 
came  to  beautiful  Lucca  last  year  he  brought  me 
back  with  him.  Oh,  it  was  hard  to  leave  my  little 
sister.  .  .  .  Signor  Garofoli  has  a  lot  of  boys  hfere, 
some  of  them  are  chimney  sweeps,  others  rag  pick- 
ers, and  those  who  are  not  strong  enough  to  work, 
sing  in  the  streets  or  beg.  Garofoli  gave  me  two 
little  white  mice  to  show  to  the  public  and  I  had  to 
bring  him  back  thirty  sous  every  night.  As  many 
sous  as  you  are  short  a  day,  so  many  blows  you  get. 
It  is  hard  to  pick  up  thirty  sous,  but  the  blows  are 
hard,  too,  especially  when  it's  Garofoli  who  gives 
them.  So  I  did  everything  that  I  could  to  get  the 


THE  PADRONE 178 

money,  but  I  was  often  short.  Nearly  all  the 
other  boys  had  their  money  when  they  returned  at 
night,  but  I  scarcely  ever  had  mine  and  Garofoli 
was  mad!  There  is  another  boy  here,  who  also 
shows  mice,  and  he's  taxed  forty  sous,  and  he 
brings  that  sum  back  every  night.  Several  times 
I  went  out  with  him  to  see  how  he  made  it.  .  .  ." 

He  paused. 

"Well?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  the  ladies  always  said,  'Give  it  to  the 
pretty  little  one,  not  the  ugly  boy.'  The  ugly  one, 
of  course,  was  I ;  so  I  did  not  go  out  with  him  any 
more.  A  blow  hurts,  but  it  hurts  more  to  have 
things  like  that  said,  and  before  a  lot  of  people! 
You  don't  know  that  because  no  one  has  ever  told 
you  that  you  are  ugly.  Well,  when  Garofoli  saw 
that  beating  me  didn't  do  any  good,  he  tried  an- 
other way.  Each  night  he  took  away  some  of  my 
supper.  It's  hard,  but  I  can't  say  to  the  people  in 
the  streets,  who  are  watching  my  mice :  l  Give  me 
something  or  I  won't  get  any  supper  to-night ! ' 
They  don't  give  for  that  reason." 

"  Why  do  they  give?  " 

"  Because  you  are  pretty  and  nice,  or  because  you 
remind  them  of  a  little  boy  they've  lost,  not  be- 
cause they  think  you're  hungry.  Oh,  I  know  their 
ways.  Say,  ain't  it  cold  to-day  ?  " 

«  Awful  cold." 

"  I  didn't  get  fat  on  begging,"  went  on  the  boy. 
"  I  got  so  pale  and  then,  after  a  time,  I  often  heard 
people  say :  '  That  poor  child  is  starving  to 


174 NOBODY'S  BOY 

death.'  A  suffering  look  does  what  good  looks 
can't  do.  But  you  have  to  be  very  starved  for  that. 
They  used  to  give  me  food.  That  was  a  good  time 
for  me,  because  Garofoli  had  stopped  giving  me 
blows  just  then  to  see  if  it  would  hurt  me  more 
to  go  without  supper,  so  when  I  got  something  to 
eat  outside  I  didn't  care.  But  one  day  Garofoli 
came  along  and  saw  me  eating  something,  a  bowl 
of  soup  that  the  fruiterer  gave  me,  then  he  knew 
why  I  didn't  mind  going  without  supper  at  home. 
After  that  he  made  me  stay  at  home  and  look  after 
the  soup  here.  Every  morning  before  he  goes  out 
he  puts  the  meat  and  the  vegetables  into  the  sauce- 
pan and  locks  the  lid  on,  and  all  I  have  to  do  is 
to  see  that  it  boils.  I  smell  the  soup,  but  that's 
all.  The  smell  of  the  soup  doesn't  feed  you;  it 
makes  you  more  hungry.  Am  I  very  white?  As  I 
never  go  out  now  I  don't  hear  people  say  so,  and 
there's  no  mirror  here." 

"You  don't  seem  any  paler  than  others,"  I 
said. 

"Ah,  you  say  that  because  you  don't  want  to 
frighten  me,  but  I'm  glad  I'm  sick.  I  want  to  be 
very  ill." 

I  looked  at  him  in  amazement 

"  You  don't  understand,"  he  said,  with  a  pitiful 
smile.  "When  one  is  very  ill,  they  take  care  of 
you  or  they  let  you  die.  If  they  let  me  die  it  will 
be  all  over,  I  shan't  be  hungry  any  more,  and 
there'll  be  no  more  beatings.  And  they  do  say  that 
when  we  die  we  go  up  and  live  with  God.  Then,  if 


THE  PADRONE 175 

I'm  up  there,  I  can  look  down  on  Mamma  and 
Christina,  and  I  can  ask  God  not  to  let  my  little 
sister  be  unhappy.  Also,  if  they  send  me  to  the 
Hospital,  I  shall  be  pleased." 

The  Hospital !  No  matter  how  sick  I  felt  while 
tramping  across  the  country,  if  I  thought  I  might 
be  sent  to  the  hospital  I  always  found  strength  to 
go  on. 

"  I'm  quite  ill  now,  but  not  ill  enough  to  be  in 
Garofoli's  way,"  he  went  on  in  his  weak,  drawling 
voice,  "but  I'm  getting  weaker.  Garofoli,  for- 
tunately, hasn't  given  up  beating  me  entirely.  He 
beat  me  on  the  head  eight  days  ago  and,  look,  it's 
all  swelled  out  now.  You  see  here,  this  big  bump? 
He  told  me  yesterday  it  was  a  tumor,  and  the  way 
that  he  spoke  I  believe  that  it's  something  serious. 
It  hurts  awful.  I'm  so  giddy  at  night  when  I  put 
my  head  on  the  pillow  I  moan  and  cry.  So  I 
think  in  two  or  three  days  he'll  decide  to  send  me 
to  the  hospital.  I  was  in  the  hospital  once,  and  the 
Sisters  speak  so  kind  to  you.  They  say,  '  Put  out 
your  tongue,  little  boy,'  and  l  There's  a  good  boy,' 
every  time  you  do  anything  they  tell  you  to  do.  I 
think  I  am  almost  bad  enough  now  to  be  sent 
there." 

He  came  and  stood  quite  close  to  me,  fixing  his 
great  eyes  on  me.  Even  though  I  had  not  the  same 
reason  for  hiding  the  truth  from  him,  I  did  not 
like  to  tell  him  how  terrible  he  looked  with  his  great 
glittering  eyes,  his  hollow  cheeks,  and  his  blood- 
less lips. 


176 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  I  should  think  you're  ill  enough  to  go  to  the 
hospital,"  I  said. 

"At  last!" 

With  dragging  limbs  he  went  slowly  over  to  the 
table  and  began  to  wipe  it. 

"Garofoli  will  be  here  shortly,"  he  said;  "we 
mustn't  talk  any  more." 

Wearily  he  went  round  the  table,  placing  the 
plates  and  spoons.  I  counted  twenty  plates.  So 
Garofoli  had  twenty  boys.  As  I  only  saw  twelve 
beds,  they  evidently  slept,  some  of  them,  two  in 
a  bed.  What  beds!  what  sheets!  the  coverlets 
must  have  been  brought  from  the  stables  when  they 
were  too  old  and  not  warm  enough  for  the  horses ! 

"  Don't  you  come  here,"  said  the  boy.  "  Try  to 
get  somewhere  else." 

«  Where?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  No  matter  where,  you'd  be  bet- 
ter than  here." 

The  door  opened  and  a  child  came  into  the  room. 
He  carried  a  violin  under  his  arm  and  a  big  piece 
of  wood  in  his  hand. 

"  Give  me  that  bit  of  wood,"  said  Mattia,  going 
up  to  the  child. 

But  the  little  fellow  held  the  piece  of  wood  be- 
hind his  back. 

"  No,"  he  said. 

"  Give  it  me  for  the  fire ;  the  soup'll  be  better." 

"  Do  you  think  I  brought  it  for  the  soup?  I've 
only  made  thirty-six  sous  to-day  and  I  thought  this 


THE  PADRONE 177 

bit  of  wood  might  save  me  a  beating.  It's  to  make 
up  for  the  four  sous  I'm  short." 

"  You'll  have  to  pay.     Each  in  his  turn." 

Mattia  said  this  mechanically,  as  though  the 
thought  of  the  boy  being  punished  gave  him  satis- 
faction. I  was  surprised  to  see  a  hard  look  come 
into  his  soft,  sad  eyes.  I  knew  later  that  if  you 
live  with  wicked  people  you,  get  to  be  like  them  in 
time. 

One  by  one  the  boys  returned;  each  one  as  he 
came  in  hung  his  instrument  on  a  nail  above  his 
bed.  Those  who  were  not  musicians,  but  simply 
exhibitors  of  trained  animals,  put  their  mice  and 
guinea  pigs  into  a  cage. 

Then  a  heavy  step  sounded  on  the  stairs  and  a 
little  man  wearing  a  gray  overcoat  came  into  the 
room.  It  was  Garofoli.  The  moment  he  entered 
he  fixed  his  eyes  on  me  with  a  look  that  scared 
me.  Mattia  quickly  and  politely  gave  him  Vi- 
talis'  message. 

"  Ah,  so  Vitalis  is  here,"  he  said ;  "  what  does  he 
want?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mattia. 

A  I'm  not  speaking  to  you,  I'm  speaking  to  this 
boy." 

"  He  is  coming  back  and  he  will  tell  you  himself 
what  he  wants,"  I  replied. 

"  Ah,  here's  a  little  fellow  who  knows  the  value 
of  words.  You're  not  Italian?  " 

"  No,  I'm  French." 


178 NOBODY'S  BOY 

The  moment  Garofoli  entered  the  room  two 
small  boys  took  their  places,  one  on  each  side  of 
him,  and  were  waiting  until  he  had  finished  speak- 
ing. Then  one  took  his  felt  hat  and  placed  it  care- 
fully on  the  bed,  and  the  other  brought  forward  a 
chair.  They  did  this  with  the  same  gravity  and 
respect  that  a  choir  boy  waits  upon  a  priest. 
When  Garofoli  was  seated  another  little  boy 
brought  him  a  pipe  stuffed  with  tobacco,  and  a 
fourth  offered  him  a  lighted  match. 

"  It  smells  of  sulphur,  animal,"  he  cried,  throw- 
ing it  in  the  grate. 

The  culprit  hastened  to  repair  his  mistake ;  light- 
ing another  match  he  let  it  burn  for  a  time  before 
offering  it  to  his  master.  But  Garofoli  would  not 
accept  it. 

"  No,  you  imbecile,"  he  said,  pushing  the  boy 
aside  roughly.  Then  he  turned  to  another  child 
and  said  with  an  ingratiating  smile: 

"  Ricardo,  dearie,  bring*  a  match." 

The  "  dearie  "  hastened  to  obey. 

"  Now,"  said  Garofoli,  when  he  was  comforta- 
bly installed  and  his  pipe  burning;  "now  to  busi- 
ness, my  little  angels.  Bring  the  book,  Mat- 
tia." 

Garofoli  made  a  sign  to  the  boy  who  had  lit  the 
first  match. 

"  You  owe  me  a  sou  from  yesterday ;  you  prom- 
ised to  bring  it  to-day.  How  much  have  you 
brought? " 

The  child  hesitated  for  a  long  time,  his  face 


THE  PADRONE 179 

showing  distress.  "  I'm  one  sou  short,"  he  said 
at  last. 

"  Ah,  you're  one  sou  short." 

"  It's  not  the  sou  for  yesterday ;  it's  a  sou  for 
to-day." 

"  That  makes  two  sous !  I've  never  seen  the  like 
of  you ! " 

"  It's  not  my  fault." 

"  No  excuses.  You  know  the  rules.  Undo  your 
coat ;  two  blows  for  yesterday,  two  for  to-day,  and 
no  supper,  for  your  impudence.  Ricardo,  dearie, 
you're  a  good  boy  and  you  deserve  some  recreation. 
Take  the  strap."  . 

Ricardo,  the  child  who  had  lit  the  second  match, 
took  down  from  the  wall  a  short-handled  whip  with 
two  leather-knotted  straps.  Meanwhile,  the  boy 
who  was  short  two  sous  was  unfastening  his  coat. 
Then  he  dropped  his  shirt,  baring  his  body  to  the 
waist. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  Garofoli,  with  an  ugly 
smile;  "you  won't  be  the  only  one,  perhaps;  it's 
always  pleasant  to  have  a  companion." 

The  children  stood  motionless  before  their  mas- 
ter. At  his  cruel  joke  they  all  forced  a  laugh. 

"  The  one  who  laughed  most  is  the  one  who  is 
short  the  most,"  said  Garofoli;  "  I'm  sure  of  that. 
Who  laughed  the  loudest?  " 

All  pointed  to  the  boy  who  had  come  home  first, 
bringing  his  piece  of  wood. 

"  How  much  are  you  short,  you  there? "  de- 
manded Garofoli. 


180 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  It's  not  my  fault" 

"  And  the  one  who  says  '  it's  not  my  fault '  will 
get  an  extra  cut.  How  much  is  missing?  " 

"  I  brought  back  a  big  piece  of  wood,  a  beautiful 
piece  of  wood  .  .  ." 

"  That's  something.  But  go  to  the  baker's  and 
ask  him  to  exchange  your  wood  for  bread,  will  he 
do  it?  How  many  sous  are  you  missing?  Speak 
out!" 

"  FTC  made  thirty-six  sous." 

"  You're  four  short,  you  rogue.  And  you  can 
stand  there  before  me  like  that !  Down  with  your 
shirt !  Ricardo,  dearie,  you're  going  to  have  a  good 
time." 

"  But  the  bit  of  wood?  "  cried  the  boy. 

"  I'll  give  it  to  you  for  supper." 

This  cruel  joke  made  all  the  children  who  were 
not  to  be  punished  laugh.  All  the  other  boys  were 
then  questioned  as  to  how  much  they  had  brought 
home.  Ricardo  stood  with  whip  in  hand  until  five 
victims  were  placed  in  a  row  before  him. 

"  You  know,  Ricardo,"  said  Garofoli,  "  I  don't 
like  to  look  on,  because  a  scene  like  this  always 
makes  me  feel  ill.  But  I  can  hear,  and  from  the 
noise  I  am  able  to  judge  the  strength  of  your  blows. 
Go  at  it  heartily,  dearie ;  you  are  working  for  your 
bread." 

He  turned  towards  the  fire,  as  though  it  were 
impossible  for  him  to  witness  this  chastisement. 

I,  in  my  corner,  trembled  with  indignation  and 
fear.  This  was  the  man  who  was  going  to  be  my 


FOR   EA<"H   CRY  YOU   WILL  RECEIVE  ANOTHER  SLASH.' 


THE  PADRONE 181 

master.  If  I  did  not  bring  him  back  the  thirty  or 
forty  sous  that  he  demanded  of  me,  I  should  have 
to  be  whipped  by  Bicardo.  Ah,  I  understood  now 
how  Mattia  could  speak  of  death  so  calmly. 

The  first  lash  of  the  whip,  as  it  cut  into  the  flesh, 
made  the  tears  spring  to  my  eyes.  I  thought  that 
I  was  forgotten,  but  I  made  a  mistake;  Garofoli 
was  looking  at  me  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

"  There's  a  boy  with  a  heart,"  he  said,  pointing 
to  me ;  "  he  is  not  like  you  other  rogues ;  you  laugh 
when  you  see  your  comrades  suffer.  Take  this  lit- 
tle comrade  for  an  example." 

I  trembled  from  head  to  foot.     Their  comrade! 

At  the  second  blow  the  victim  uttered  a  wail,  at 
the  third  a  piercing  shriek.  Garofoli  lifted  his 
hand;  Ricardo  stopped  with  raised  whip.  I 
thought  Garofoli  was  going  to  show  mercy,  but  it 
was  not  so. 

"  You  know  how  much  it  hurts  me  to  hear  you 
cry,"  said  Garofoli,  gently,  addressing  the  victim. 
"  You  know  that  if  the  whip  tears  your  skin,  your 
cries  pierce  my  heart.  So  then  I  warn  you  that  for 
each  cry  you  will  receive  another  slash,  and  it  will 
be  your  own  fault.  If  you  have  any  affection  or 
gratitude  you  will  keep  silent  Go  on,  Ricardo." 

Ricardo  raised  his  arm  and  the  strap  curled  on 
the  backs  of  the  victims. 

"  Oh,  Mamma,  Mamma,"  cried  one. 

Thank  God,  I  saw  no  more  of  this  frightful  tor- 
ture, for  at  this  moment  the  door  was  thrown  open 
and  Vitalis  entered. 


182 NOBODY'S  BOY 

In  a  glance,  he  understood  all.  He  had  heard 
the  shrieks  while  climbing  the  stairs.  Running  to 
Ricardo,  he  snatched  the  whip  from  him,  then, 
wheeling  round  upon  Garofoli,  he  stood  before  him 
with  folded  arms. 

It  iill  happened  so  quickly  that,  for  a  moment,  I 
was  dumbfounded,  but  Garofoli  quickly  recovered 
himself  and  said  gently : 

"  Isn't  it  terrible?    That  child  has  no  heart." 

"  Shame !    It's  a  shame ! "  cried  Vitalis. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  say/'  murmured  Garofoli 

"  Stop  that,"  commanded  Vitalis ;  "  it's  you,  not 
the  child!  What  a  cowardly  shame  to  torture 
these  poor  children  who  cannot  defend  themselves." 

"  Don't  you  meddle  in  what  does  not  concern 
you,  you  old  fool,"  cried  Garofoli,  changing  his 
tone. 

"  It  concerns  the  police,"  retorted  Vitalis. 

"You  threaten  me  with  the  police,  do  you?" 
cried  Garofoli. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  replied  my  master,  nowise  intimi- 
dated by  the  bully's  fury. 

"  Ah,  Vitalis,"  he  hissed,  "  so  you'll  talk?  Well, 
I  can  talk  also.  Your  affairs  do  not  concern  me, 
but  there  are  others  who  are  interested  in  you  and 
if  I  tell,  if  I  say  one  name  .  .  .  Ah,  who  will  have 
to  hide  his  head  in  shame?  " 

My  master  was  silent  Shame !  His  shame !  I 
was  amazed,  but  before  I  had  time  to  think,  he  had 
taken  me  by  the  hand. 


THE  PADRONE 188 

"  Come,  Remi,"  he  said.  And  he  drew  me  to  the 
door. 

"  Oh,"  cried  Garofoli,  now  laughing,  "  I  thought 
you  wanted  to  talk  to  me,  old  fellow." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  you." 

Then,  without  another  word,  we  went  down  the 
stairs,  he  still  holding  me  tightly  by  the  hand. 
With  what  relief  I  followed  him!  I  had  escaped 
from  that  tyrant!  If  I  had  dared  I  would  have 
thrown  my  arms  around  Vitalis'  neck. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

POOR  VITALIS 

WHILE  we  were  in  the  street  Vitalis  said  not 
a  word,  but  soon  we  came  to  a  narrow  al- 
ley and  he  sat  down  on  a  mile-stone  and  passed  his 
hand  several  times  across  his  forehead. 

"  It  may  be  fine  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  gen- 
erosity," he  said,  as  though  speaking  to  himself, 
"  but  now  wre're  in  the  gutters  of  Paris,  without  a 
sou;  not  a  bite  to  eat.  .  .  .  Are  you  hungry?"  he 
asked,  looking  up  at  me. 

"  I  haven't  eaten  anything  since  that  little  roll 
you  gave  me  this  morning." 

"  Poor,  poor  child,  and  you'll  have  to  go  to  bed 
to-night  without  supper.  And  where  are  we  going 
to  sleep?  " 

"  Did  you  count  on  sleeping  at  Garof oil's,  then?  " 

"  I  counted  upon  you  sleeping  there,  and  as  he 
would  have  given  me  twenty  francs  for  you  for 
the  winter,  I  could  have  managed  for  the  time  be- 
ing. But,  seeing  the  way  he  treated  those  chil- 
dren, I  could  not  give  you  to  him." 

"  Oh,  you  are  so  good !  " 

"  Perhaps  in  this  old,  hardened  vagabond  there 
is  still  a  bit  of  the  young  man's  heart  left.  This 

184 


POOR  VITALIS 185 

old  vagabond  calculated  shrewdly,  but  the  young 
man  still  in  him  upset  all.  .  .  .  Now,  ^vhere  to 
go?  "  he  murmured. 

It  was  already  late  and  the  cold  had  increased. 
It  was  going  to  be  a  hard  night.  For  a  long  time 
Vitalis  sat  on  the  stone.  Capi  and  I  stood  silently 
before,  waiting  until  he  had  come  to  some  decision. 
Finally  he  rose. 

"  Where  are  we  going?  " 

"  To  Gentilly,  to  try  and  find  a  race-course  where 
I've  slept  sometimes.  Are  you  tired?  " 

"  I  rested  at  Garofoli's." 

"  The  pity  is  that  I  haven't  rested,  and  I  can't 
do  much  more.  But  we  must  get  along.  For- 
ward !  March !  Children !  " 

This  was  his  good  humor  signal  for  the  dogs 
and  myself  when  we  were  about  to  start,  but  this 
night  he  said  it  sadly. 

Here  we  were,  wandering  in  the  streets  of  Paris ; 
the  night  was  dark  and  the  gas  jets,  which  flickered 
in  the  wind,  lit  the  alleys  but  dimly.  At  each  step 
we  slipped  on  the  ice-covered  pavement.  Vitalis 
held  me  by  the  hand,  and  Capi  followed  at  our 
heels.  From  time  to  time,  the  poor  dog  stopped 
behind  to  look  amongst  a  heap  of  garbage  to  see  if 
he  could  find  a  bone  or  a  crust,  for  he  was  oh,  so 
hungry,  but  the  garbage  was  covered  with  frozen 
snow  and  he  searched  in  vain.  With  drooping 
ears  he  trotted  on  to  catch  up  with  us. 

After  the  big  streets,  more  alleys;  after  the  al- 
leys, more  big  streets;  we  walked  on,  and  on;  the 


186 NOBODY'S  BOY 

few  pedestrians  that  we  met  stared  at  us  in  aston- 
ishment. Was  it  our  costumes?  Was  it  the  tired 
way  we  plodded  along  which  arrested  their  atten- 
tion? The  policemen  that  we  passed  turned  round 
and  followed  us  with  a  glance. 

Without  saying  a  word,  Vitalis  tramped  on,  his 
back  almost  bent  double,  but  despite  the  cold,  his 
hand  burned  in  mine.  It  seemed  to  me  that  he 
was  trembling.  Sometimes,  when  he  stopped  to 
lean  for  a  minute  against  my  shoulder,  I  felt  all 
his  body  shaken  with  trembling.  Ordinarily,  I 
would  not  dare  to  have  questioned  him,  but  I  felt 
I  must  to-night.  Besides,  I  had  a  great  wish  to 
tell  him  how  much  I  loved  him  or,  at  least,  that  I 
wanted  to  do  something  for  him. 

"  You  are  ill  ?  "  I  said,  when  he  stopped  again. 

"  I'm  afraid  so ;  anyway,  I'm  very  tired.  This 
cold  is  too  severe  for  my  old  blood.  I  need  a  good 
bed  and  a  supper  before  a  fire.  But  that's  a  dream. 
Forward!  March!  Children." 

Forward!  March!  We  had  left  the  city  behind 
us;  we  were  now  in  the  suburbs.  We  saw  no  peo- 
ple or  policemen  or  street  lights,  only  a  lighted 
window  here  and  there,  and  over  our  heads  the 
dark-blue  sky  dotted  with  a  few  stars.  The  wind, 
which  blew  more  bitter  and  more  violently,  stuck 
our  clothing  to  our  bodies.  Fortunately,  it  was 
at  our  backs,  but  as  the  sleeves  of  my  coat  were  all 
torn  near  the  shoulders,  it  blew  in  and  slipped 
along  my  arms,  chilling  me  to  the  bone. 

Although  it  was  dark  and  the  streets  continu- 


POOR  VITALIS 187 

ally  crossed  each  other,  Vitalis  walked  like  a  man 
who  knows  his  way,  and  was  perfectly  sure  of  his 
road.  So  I  followed,  feeling  sure  that  we  should 
not  lose  ourselves.  Suddenly,  he  stopped. 

"  Do  you  see  a  group  of  trees?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  see  anything." 

"  You  don't  see  a  big  black  mass?  " 

I  looked  on  all  sides  before  answering.  I  saw 
no  trees  or  houses.  Space  all  around  us.  There 
was  no  other  sound  save  the  whistle  of  the 
wind. 

"  See,  down  there !  "  He  stretched  out  his  right 
hand  before  him,  then,  as  I  did  not  reply,  for  I  was 
afraid  to  say  that  I  saw  nothing,  he  trudged  on 
again. 

Some  minutes  passed  in  silence ;  then  he  stopped 
once  more  and  asked  me  if  I  did  not  see  a  group  of 
trees.  A  vague  fear  made  my  voice  tremble  when 
I  replied  that  I  saw  nothing. 

"  It  is  fear,  my  boy,  that  makes  your  eyes  dance ; 
look  again." 

"  I  tell  you,  I  do  not  see  any  trees." 

"  Not  on  the  big  road?  " 

"  I  can't  see  anything." 

"  We've  made  a  mistake." 

I  could  say  nothing,  for  I  did  not  know  where  we 
were,  nor  where  we  were  going. 

"  Let  us  walk  for  another  five  minutes  and,  if  we 
do  not  see  the  trees,  we  will  come  back  here.  I 
might  have  made  a  mistake  on  the  road." 

Now  that  I  knew  that  we  had  gone  astray,  I 


188 NOBODY'S  BOY 

seemed  to  have  no  more  strength  left,  yitalis 
pulled  me  by  the  arm. 

"  Come,  come." 

"  I  can't  walk  any  farther." 

"  Ah,  and  do  vou  think  I'm  going  to  carry  you?  " 

I  followed  him. 

"  Are  there  any  deep  ruts  in  the  road?  " 

«  No." 

"Then  we  must  turn  back." 

We  turned.  Now  we  faced  the  wind.  It  stung 
our  faces  like  a  lash.  It  seemed  that  my  face  was 
being  scorched  with  a  flame. 

"  We  have  to  take  a  road  leading  from  the  cross- 
roads," said  my  master  feebly ;  "  tell  me  when  you 
see  it." 

For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  we  went  on,  struggling 
against  the  wind;  in  the  doleful  silence  of  the 
night  the  noise  of  our  footsteps  echoed  on  the  dry, 
hard  earth.  Although  scarcely  able  to  put  one 
foot  before  the  other,  it  was  I  who  dragged  Vitalis. 
How  anxiously  I  looked  to  the  left!  In  the  dark 
shadows  I  suddenly  saw  a  little  red  light. 

"  See,  there's  a  light,"  I  said,  pointing. 

"  Where?  " 

Vitalis  looked ;  although  the  light  was  but  a  short 
distance  off,  he  saw  nothing.  I  knew  then  that  his 
sight  was  going. 

"  What  is  that  light  to  us? "  he  asked;  " it  is  a 
lamp  burning  on  the  table  of  some  worker,  or  it's 
near  the  bed  of  a  dying  person.  We  cannot  go  and 


POOR  VITALIS 189 

knock  at  those  doors.  Away  in  the  country,  dur- 
ing the  night,  you  can  ask  hospitality,  but  so  near 
Paris  ...  we  must  not  expect  hospitality  here. 
Come." 

A  few  steps  more  and  I  thought  I  could  make  out 
the  cross-roads  and  a  black  mass  which  must  be 
the  trees.  I  let  go  of  my  master's  hand  to  go  ahead 
quicker.  There  were  deep  ruts  in  the  road. 

"  See,  here  are  the  ruts?  "  I  cried. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  we  are  saved,"  said  Vitalis ; 
"  look,  now  you  can  see  the  group  of  trees." 

I  told  him  that  I  thought  I  could  see  the  trees. 

"  In  five  minutes  we  shall  be  there,"  he  mur- 
mured. 

We  trudged  along,  but  the  five  minutes  seemed 
an  eternity. 

"  Where  are  the  ruts?  " 

"  They  are  still  on  the  right" 

"  We  must  have  passed  the  entrance  to  the  race- 
course without  seeing  it.  I  think  we'd  better  go 
back." 

Once  more  we  turned  back. 

"Do  you  see  the  trees?" 

"  Yes,  there  on  the  left." 

"And  the  ruts?" 

"  There  are  not  any." 

"Am  I  blind?"  asked  Vitalis  in  a  low  voice,  as 
he  passed  his  hands  across  his  eyes;  "  walk  straight 
along  by  the  trees,  and  give  me  your  hand." 

"  Here  is  a  wall." 


190 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  No,  it's  a  heap  of  stones." 

"  No,  I  am  sure  it's  a  wall." 

Vitalis  took  a  step  aside  to  see  if  it  really  was  as 
I  said.  He  stretched  out  his  two  hands  and 
touched  the  wall. 

"  Yes,  it's  a  wall,"  he  murmured.  "  Where  is 
the  entrance.  Look  for  the  track." 

I  stooped  down  to  the  ground  and  felt  all  along 
to  the  end  of  the  wall,  but  I  found  no  entrance; 
then,  turning  back  to  where  Vitalis  stood,  I  con- 
tinued to  feel  along  the  wall  on  the  other  side. 
The  result  was  the  same;  there  was  no  opening, 
no  gate. 

"  There  is  nothing,"  I  said. 

The  situation  was  terrible.  Without  doubt  my 
master  was  delirious.  Perhaps  there  was  no  race- 
course here  at  all !  Vitalis  stood  for  a  moment  as 
though  in  a  dream.  Capi  began  to  bark  impa- 
tiently. 

"  Shall  we  look  further?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,  the  race-course  is  walled  up." 

"Walled  up?" 

"Yes,  they  have  closed  the  opening,  and  it  is 
impossible  for  us  to  get  inside." 

"  Well,  then?  " 

"  What  to  do,  eh?    I  don't  know.     Die  here." 

"Oh,  Master!  Master!" 

"  Yes,  you  don't  want  to  die,  you  are  so  young. 
Life  seems  good  to  you.  Let  us  walk  on.  Can 
you  still  walk  a  bit  further,  my  child." 

"Oh,  but  you?" 


POOR  VITALIS 191 

"  When  I  can  go  no  farther,  I  shall  fall  down 
like  an  old  horse." 

"  Where  shall  we  go?  " 

"  Eeturn  to  Paris.  When  we  meet  a  policeman 
we  will  let  him  take  us  to  the  police  station.  I  did 
not  want  that,  but  I  cannot  let  you  die  of  cold,  boy. 
Come,  little  Remi,  come.  On,  my  children.  Cour- 
age ! " 

We  turned  back  the  same  way  that  we  had  come. 
What  time  was  it?  I  had  no  idea.  We  had 
walked  for  hours,  a  long,  long  time,  and  so  slowly. 
Perhaps  it  was  midnight  or  one  o'clock.  The  sky 
was  still  a  somber  blue,  without  moon,  and  with 
but  few  stars,  and  the  few  that  had  appeared 
seemed  to  me  to  be  smaller  than  usual.  The  wind 
had  increased;  the  snow  beat  in  our  faces;  the 
houses  that  we  passed  were  closed  for  the  night. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  if  the  people  who  slept  there, 
warmly  beneath  the  sheets,  knew  how  cold  we  were 
outside,  they  would  have  opened  their  doors  to  us. 

Vitalis  walked  slower  and  slower;  when  I  spoke 
to  him  he  made  a  sign  to  me  to  be  silent.  We  were 
now  nearing  the  city.  Vitalis  stopped.  I  knew 
that  he  had  come  to  the  end  of  his  strength. 

"  Shall  I  knock  at  one  of  the  doors?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,  they  will  not  let  us  in.  They  are  gar- 
deners who  live  here.  They  supply  the  market. 
They  would  not  get  up  at  this  hour  to  take  us  in. 
Let  us  go  on." 

But  he  had  more  will  than  strength.  After  a 
moment  he  stopped  again. 


198 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  I  must  rest  a  little,"  he  said,  feebly ;  "  I  can't 
go  on." 

There  was  a  gate  leading  to  a  big  garden.  The 
wind  had  blown  a  lot  of  straw,  that  covered  a 
manure  heap  near  the  gate,  into  the  street. 

"  I  am  going  to  sit  here,"  said  Vitalis. 

"  You  said  that  if  we  sat  down  we  should  get  too 
cold  to  get  up  again." 

He  made  no  reply,  but  signed  for  me  to  heap 
up  the  straw  against  the  door;  then  he  fell,  rather 
than  sat  down  upon  it.  His  teeth  chattered  and 
all  his  body  shook. 

"  Bring  some  more  straw,"  he  said ;  "  with  a 
lot  of  straw  we  can  keep  the  wind  from  us." 

The  wind,  yes,  but  not  the  cold.  When  I  had 
gathered  up  all  the  straw  that  I  could,  I  sat  down 
beside  Vitalis. 

"  Come  quite  close  to  me,"  he  said,  "  and  lift 
Capi  on  your  lap.  He  will  give  you  some  warmth 
from  his  body." 

Vitalis  was  ill.  Did  he  know  how  ill?  As  I 
crept  close  up  against  him,  he  bent  over  and  kissed 
me.  That  was  the  second  time  he  had  kissed  me. 
Alas!  it  was  the  last. 

Scarcely  had  I  cuddled  up  against  Vitalis  than 
I  felt  my  eyes  close.  I  tried  to  keep  them  open, 
but  I  could  not.  I  pinched  my  arms,  but  there 
was  no  feeling  in  my  flesh.  On  my  legs,  which 
were  drawn  up  to  my  chest,  Capi  slept  already. 
The  wind  blew  the  wisps  of  straw  upon  us  like 
dried  leaves  that  fall  from  a  tree.  There  was  not 


POOR  VITALIS 193 

a  soul  in  the  street,  and  around  us  was  the  silence 
of  death. 

This  silence  frightened  me.  Of  what  was  I 
afraid?  I  did  not  know,  but  a  vague  fear  came 
over  me.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  dying  there. 
And  then  I  felt  very  sad.  I  thought  of  Chavanon, 
of  poor  Mother  Barberin.  Must  I  die  without  see- 
ing her  again,  and  our  little  house,  and  my  little 
garden!  Then,  I  was  no  longer  cold;  it  seemed 
that  I  was  back  in  my  little  garden.  The  sun 
was  shining  and  was  so  warm.  The  jonquils  were 
opening  their  golden  petals;  the  birds  were  sing- 
ing in  the  trees  and  on  the  hedges.  Yes,  and 
Mother  Barberin  was  hanging  out  the  clothes  that 
she  had  just  washed  in  the  brook,  which  rippled 
over  the  pebbles.  Then  I  left  Chavanon,  and 
joined  Arthur  and  Mrs.  Milligan  on  the  Swan. 
Then  my  eyes  closed  again,  my  heart  seemed  to 
grow  heavy,  and  I  remembered  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

NEW   FEIENDS 

WHEN  I  awoke  I  was  in  a  bed,  and  the  flames 
from  a  big  fire  lit  up  the  room  in  which  I 
was  lying.  I  had  never  seen  this  room  before,  nor 
the  people  who  stood  near  the  bed.  There  wras  a 
man  in  a  gray  smock  and  clogs,  and  three  or  four 
children.  One,  which  I  noticed  particularly,  was 
a  little  girl  about  six  years  old,  with  great  big  eyes 
that  were  so  expressive  they  seemed  as  though  they 
could  speak. 

I  raised  myself  on  my  elbow.  They  all  came 
closer. 

"  Vitalis?  "  I  asked. 

"  He  is  asking  for  his  father,"  said  a  girl,  who 
seemed  to  be  the  eldest  of  the  children. 

"  He  is  not  my  father ;  he  is  my  master,"  I  said ; 
"  where  is  he?  where's  Capi?  " 

If  Vitalis  had  been  my  father  they  perhaps 
would  have  broken  the  news  to  me  gently,  but  as 
he  was  only  my  master,  they  thought  that  they 
could  tell  me  the  truth  at  once. 

They  told  me  that  my  poor  master  was  dead. 
The  gardener,  who  lived  on  the  grounds  outside  of 
which  we  had  fallen  exhausted,  had  found  us  early 
the  next  morning,  when  he  and  his  son  were  start- 

IM 


NEW  FRIENDS 195 

ing  off  with  their  vegetables  and  flowers  to  the 
markets.  They  found  us  lying,  huddled  together 
in  the  snow,  with  a  little  covering  of  their  straw 
over  us.  Vitalis  was  already  dead,  and  I  should 
have  died  but  Capi  had  crept  up  to  my  chest  and 
kept  my  heart  warm.  They  had  carried  us  into 
the  house  and  I  had  been  placed  in  one  of  the  chil- 
dren's warm  beds. 

"And  Capi?"  I  asked,  when  the  gardener 
stopped  talking. 

"Capi?" 

"  Yes,  the  dog." 

"  I  don't  know,  he's  disappeared." 

"He  followed  the  body,"  said  one  of  the  chil- 
dren. "Didn't  you  see  him,  Benjamin?" 

"  Should  say  I  did,"  answered  another  boy ;  "  he 
walked  behind  the  men  who  carried  the  stretcher. 
He  kept  his  head  down,  and  now  and  again  he 
jumped  up  on  the  body,  and  when  they  made  him 
get  down  he  moaned  and  howled  something  ter- 
rible." 

Poor  Capi !  how  many  times,  as  an  actor,  had  he 
not  followed  Zerbino's  funeral.  Even  the  most 
serious  children  had  been  obliged  to  laugh  at  his 
display  of  grief.  The  more  he  moaned,  the  more 
they  had  laughed. 

The  gardener  and  his  children  left  me  alone. 
Not  knowing  quite  what  to  do  or  what  I  was  going 
to  do,  I  got  up  and  dressed.  My  harp  had  been 
placed  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  upon  which  I  was 
lying.  I  passed  the  strap  over  my  shoulder  and 


196 NOBODY'S  BOY 

went  into  the  room  where  the  family  were.  I 
should  have  to  go,  but  where?  While  in  bed  I  had 
not  felt  very  weak,  but  now  I  could  scarcely  stand ; 
I  was  obliged  to  hold  on  to  a  chair  to  keep  from 
falling.  The  odor  of  the  soup  was  too  much  for 
me.  I  was  reminded  brutally  that  I  had  eaten 
nothing  the  night  before.  I  felt  faint,  and  stag- 
gering, I  dropped  into  a  chair  by  the  fire. 

"Don't  you  feel  well,  my  boy?"  asked  the  gar- 
dener. 

I  told  him  that  I  did  not  feel  very  well,  and  1 
asked  him  to  let  me  sit  by  the  fire  for  a  little  while. 
But  it  was  not  the  heat  that  I  wanted;  it  was 
food.  I  felt  weaker  as  I  watched  the  family  take 
their  soup.  If  I  had  dared,  I  would  have  asked 
for  a  bowl,  but  Vitalis  had  taught  me  not  to  beg. 
I  could  not  tell  them  I  was  hungry.  Why?  I 
don't  know,  quite,  unless  it  was  that  I  could  not 
ask  for  anything  that  I  was  unable  to  return. 

The  little  girl  with  the  strange  look  in  her  eyes, 
and  whose  name  was  Lise,  sat  opposite  to  me. 
Suddenly,  she  got  up  from  the  table  and,  taking 
her  bowl  which  was  full  of  soup,  she  brought  it 
over  to  me  and  placed  it  on  my  knees.  Weakly, 
for  I  could  no  longer  speak,  I  nodded  my  head  to 
thank  her.  The  father  did  not  give  me  time  to 
speak  even  if  I  had  been  able. 

"  Take  it,  my  boy,"  he  said.  "  What  Lise  gives 
is  given  with  a  kind  heart.  There  is  more  if  you 
want  more." 


NEW  FRIENDS 197 

If  I  want  more!  The  bowl  of  soup  was  swal- 
lowed in  a  few  seconds.  When  I  put  down  the 
soup,  Lise,  who  had  remained  standing  before  me, 
heaved  a  little  sigh  of  content.  Then  she  took  my 
bowl  and  held  it  out  to  her  father  to  have  it  re- 
filled, and  when  it  was  full  she  brought  it  to  me 
with  such  a  sweet  smile,  that  in  spite  of  my  hunger, 
I  sat  staring  at  her,  without  thinking  to  take  it 
from  her.  The  second  bowlful  disappeared 
promptly  like  the  first.  It  was  no  longer  a  smile 
that  curved  Lise's  pretty  lips;  she  burst  out 
laughing. 

"  Well,  my  boy,"  said  her  father,  "  you've  got  an 
appetite  and  no  mistake." 

I  was  much  ashamed,  but  after  a  moment  I 
thought  it  better  to  confess  the  truth  than  to  be 
thought  a  glutton,  so  I  told  them  that  I  had  not 
had  any  supper  the  night  before. 

"  And  dinner?  " 

"  No  dinner,  either." 

"  And  your  master?  " 

"  He  hadn't  eaten,  either." 

"  Then  he  died  as  much  from  starvation  as  from 
cold." 

The  hot  soup  had  given  me  strength.  I  got  up 
to  go. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  asked  the  father. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"Got  any  friends  or  relations  in  Paris?" 

"  No." 


198 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  Where  do  you  live?  " 

"  We  hadn't  any  home.  We  only  got  to  the  city 
yesterday." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  then?  " 

"  Play  my  harp  and  get  a  little  money." 

"  In  Paris?  You  had  better  return  to  your  par- 
ents in  the  country.  Where  do  they  live?  " 

"  I  haven't  any  parents.  My  master  bought  me 
from  my  foster  parents.  You  have  been  good  to 
me  and  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  and,  if  you 
like,  I'll  come  back  here  on  Sunday  and  play  my 
harp  while  you  dance." 

While  speaking  I  had  walked  towards  the  door, 
but  I  had  only  taken  a  few  steps  when  Lise,  who 
followed  me,  took  my  hand  and  pointed  to  my  harp. 

"You  want  me  to  play  now?"  I  asked,  smiling 
at  her. 

She  nodded  and  clapped  her  hands. 

Although  I  had  no  heart  to  play,  I  played  my 
prettiest  waltz  for  this  little  girl.  At  first  she 
listened  with  her  big,  beautiful  eyes  fixed  on  me, 
then  she  began  to  keep  time  with  her  feet,  and  very 
soon  was  dancing  gayly  round  the  kitchen,  while 
her  brothers  and  sisters  watched  her.  Her  father 
was  delighted.  When  the  waltz  was  finished  the 
child  came  and  made  me  a  pretty  curtsy.  I 
would  have  played  for  her  all  day,  but  the  father 
thought  she  had  danced  enough  so,  instead,  I  sang 
the  Neapolitan  song  that  Vitalis  had  taught  me. 
Lise  stood  opposite  me,  moving  her  lips  as  though 
repeating  the  words.  Then,  sud  lenly,  she  turned 


NEW  FRIENDS 199 

round  and  threw  herself  into  her  father's  arms, 
crying. 

"  That's  enough  music,"  said  the  father. 

"  Isn't  she  a  silly?  "  said  the  brother  named  Ben- 
jamin, scoffingly ;  "  first  she  dances,  and  then  she 
cries ! " 

"  She's  not  so  silly  as  you ! "  retorted  the  elder 
sister,  leaning  over  the  little  one  affectionately. 
"  She  understands  .  .  ." 

While  Lise  cried  on  her  father's  knee,  I  again 
strapped  my  harp  to  my  shoulder,  and  made  for 
the  door. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  asked  the  gardener. 
"Wouldn't  you  like  to  stay  here  and  work?  It 
won't  be  an  easy  life.  You'll  have  to  get  up  very 
early  in  the  morning  and  work  hard  all  day.  But 
you  may  be  sure  that  you  won't  have  to  go  through 
what  you  did  last  night.  You  will  have  a  bed  and 
food  and  you  will  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
that  you  have  earned  it.  And,  if  you're  a  good 
boy,  which  I  think  you  are,  you  will  be  one  of  the 
family." 

Lise  turned  round  and,  through  her  tears,  she 
looked  at  me  and  smiled.  I  could  hardly  believe 
what  I  heard.  I  just  stared  at  the  gardener. 
Then  Lise  jumped  off  her  father's  knee  and  came 
up  and  took  my  hand. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say,  boy?  "  asked  the  father. 

A  family!  I  should  have  a  family.  I  should 
not  be  alone.  The  man  I  had  lived  with  for  sev- 
eral years,  who  had  been  almost  a  father  to  me,  was 


200 NOBODY'S  BOY 

dead,  and  dear,  good  Capi,  my  companion  and 
friend,  whom  I  loved  so  much,  was  lost.  I  had 
thought  that  all  was  over  for  me,  and  here  was  this 
good  man  offering  to  take  me  into  his  family. 
Life  would  begin  again  for  me.  He  said  he  offered 
me  food  and  lodging,  but  what  meant  more  to  me 
was  this  home  life  which  would  be  mine  also. 
These  boys  would  be  my  brothers.  This  pretty 
little  Lise  would  be  my  sister.  I  would  no  longer 
be  nobody's  boy.  In  my  childish  dreams  I  had 
more  than  once  thought  I  might  find  my  father  and 
mother,  but  I  had  never  thought  that  I  should  have 
brothers  and  sisters!  And  this  was  what  was  be- 
ing offered  to  me.  I  quickly  slipped  the  strap  of 
my  harp  from  off  my  shoulders. 

"There's  his  reply,"  said  the  father,  laughing. 
"  I  can  see  by  your  face  how  pleased  you  are ;  no 
need  for  you  to  say  anything.  Hang  your  harp  up 
there  on  the  wall  and  when  you  get  tired  of  us  you 
may  take  it  down  and  go  on  your  way  again,  but 
you  must  do  like  the  swallows,  choose  your  season 
to  start  on  your  flight.  Don't  go  off  in  the  depth 
of  winter." 

My  new  family  consisted  of  the  father,  whose 
name  was  Pierre  Acquin,  two  boys,  Alexix  and 
Benjamin,  and  two  girls,  Etiennette,  the  elder,  and 
Lise,  the  youngest  of  the  family. 

Lise  was  dumb.  She  was  not  born  dumb,  but 
just  before  her  fourth  birthday,  through  an  illness, 
she  had  lost  the  power  of  speech.  This  affliction, 
fortunately,  had  not  impaired  her  intelligence; 


NEW  FRIENDS 201 

quite  the  contrary,  her  intelligence  was  developed 
to  an  extraordinary  degree.  She  seemed  to  under- 
stand everything.  And  her  sweet,  pretty  ways 
made  her  adored  by  the  family. 

Since  the  mother  had  died,  Etiennette  had  been 
mother  to  the  family.  She  had  left  school  early 
to  stay  at  home  to  cook  and  sew  and  clean  the 
house  for  her  father  and  brothers.  They  had 
quite  forgotten  that  she  was  the  daughter,  the  sis- 
ter; they  were  so  accustomed  to  seeing  her  doing 
the  work  of  a  servant,  for  she  seldom  went  out  and 
was  never  angry.  Carrying  Lise  in  her  arms, 
dragging  Benny  by  the  hand,  getting  up  at  day- 
break to  get  her  father's  breakfast,  going  to  bed  late 
after  washing  the  dishes,  she  had  not  had  time  to 
be  a  child.  At  fourteen  years  her  face  was  serious 
and  sad.  It  was  not  the  face  of  a  little  girl. 

Five  minutes  after  I  had  hung  my  harp  on  the 
wall,  I  was  telling  them  all  what  had  happened 
the  night  before,  how  we  had  hoped  to  sleep  on  the 
racecourse,  when  I  heard  a  scratching  on  the  door 
which  opened  onto  the  garden;  then  there  was  a 
plaintive  whine. 

"  Capi !  Capi !  "  I  cried,  jumping  up  quickly. 

But  Lise  was  before  me ;  she  had  already  opened 
the  door. 

Capi  sprang  upon  me.  I  took  him  in  my  arms; 
with  little  howls  of  joy,  and  his  whole  body  trem- 
bling, he  licked  my  face. 

"And  Capi?  ..."  I  asked. 

My  question  was  understood. 


202 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"Well,  Capi  will  remain  with  you,  of  course," 
said  the  father. 

As  though  he  knew  what  we  were  saying,  the 
dog  jumped  to  the  ground  and  putting  his  paw 
straight  on  his  heart,  he  bowed.  It  made  the  chil- 
dren laugh,  especially  Lise,  and  to  amuse  them  I 
wanted  Capi  to  perform  some  of  his  tricks,  but  he 
had  no  wish  to  obey  me;  he  jumped  on  my  knee 
and  commenced  to  lick  my  face;  then  he  sprung 
down  and  began  to  drag  me  by  the  sleeve  of  my 
coat. 

"  He  wants  me  to  go  out." 

"  To  take  you  to  your  master." 

The  police,  who  had  taken  Vitalis  away,  had  said 
that  they  wished  to  question  me  when  I  was  better. 
It  was  very  uncertain  as  to  when  they  would  come, 
and  I  was  anxious  to  have  newTs.  Perhaps  Vitalis 
was  not  dead  as  they  had  thought.  Perhaps 
there  was  still  a  spark  of  life  left  in  my  master's 
body. 

Upon  seeing  my  anxiety,  Monsieur  Acquin  of- 
fered to  take  me  to  the  police  station.  When  we 
arrived  there  I  was  questioned  at  length,  but  I 
would  give  no  information  until  they  had  declared 
that  poor  Vitalis  was  really  dead.  Then  I  told 
them  what  I  knew.  It  was  very  little.  Of  myself 
I  was  able  to  say  that  I  had  no  parents  and  that 
Vitalis  had  hired  me  for  a  sum  of  money,  which 
he  had  paid  in  advance  to  my  foster  mother's  hus- 
band. 

"And  now?  .  .  ."  inquired  the  commissioner. 


NEW  FRIENDS 203 

"  We  are  going  to  take  care  of  him,"  interrupted 
my  new  friend ;  "  that  is,  if  you  will  let  us." 

The  commissioner  was  willing  to  confide  me  to 
his  care  and  complimented  him  upon  his  kind  act 

It  is  not  easy  for  a  child  to  hide  much  from  a 
police  officer  who  knows  his  business.  They  very 
soon  trap  persons  into  telling  what  they  wish  to 
hide.  This  was  so  in  my  case.  The  commissioner 
had  quickly  gleaned  from  me  all  about  Garofoli. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  take  him  to  this 
chap,  Garofoli,"  he  said  to  one  of  his  men.  "  Once 
in  the  street  he  mentions,  he  will  soon  recognize 
the  house.  You  can  go  up  with  him  and  question 
the  man." 

The  three  of  us  started.  As  the  officer  had  said,, 
we  found  the  street  and  the  house.  We  went  up 
to  the  fourth  floor.  I  did  not  see  Mattia.  He  had 
probably  been  taken  off  to  the  hospital.  Upon 
seeing  the  officer  and  recognizing  me,  Garofoli 
paled  and  looked  frightened,  but  he  soon  recovered 
himself  when  he  learned  that  they  had  only  come 
to  question  him  about  Vitalis. 

"  So  the  old  fellow  is  dead?  "  he  said. 

"You  know  him?  Well,  tell  us  all  you  can 
about  him." 

"  There  is  not  much  to  tell.  His  name  was  not 
Vitalis.  He  was  Carlo  Balzini,  and  if  you  had 
lived  thirty-five  or  forty  years  ago  in  Italy,  that 
name  alone  would  tell  you  all  you  want  to  know. 
Carlo  Balzini  was  the  greatest  singer  of  the  day. 
He  sung  in  Naples,  Rome,  Milan,  Venice,  Florence, 


204 NOBODY'S  BOY 

London  and  Paris.  Then  came  the  time  when  he 
lost  his  magnificent  voice,  and  as  he  could  not  be 
the  greatest  of  singers,  he  would  not  dim  his  fame 
by  singing  on  cheaper  stages  unworthy  of  his  great 
reputation.  Instead  he  preferred  to  hide  himself 
from  the  world  and  from  all  who  had  known  him  in 
his  triumph.  Yet  he  had  to  live.  He  tried  several 
professions,  but  could  not  succeed,  then  finally  he 
took  to  training  dogs.  But  in  his  poverty  he  was 
still  very  proud  and  he  would  have  died  of  shame 
if  the  public  could  have  known  that  the  brilliant 
Carlo  Balzini  had  sunk  to  the  depths  he  had.  It 
was  just  a  matter  of  chance  that  I  learned  his 
secret." 

Poor  Carlo  Balzini;  dear,  dear  Vitalis! 


CHAPTER  XIX 

DISASTER 

VITALIS  had  to  be  buried  the  next  day,  and 
M.  Acquin  promised  to  take  me  to  the  fu- 
neral. But  the  next  day  I  could  not  rise  from  my 
bed,  for  in  the  night  I  was  taken  very  ill.  My 
chest  seemed  to  burn  like  poor  little  Pretty-Heart's 
after  he  had  spent  the  night  in  the  tree.  The  doc- 
tor was  called  in.  I  had  pneumonia.  The  doctor 
wanted  me  sent  to  the  hospital,  but  the  family 
would  not  hear  of  it.  It  was  during  this  illness 
that  I  learned  to  appreciate  Etiennette's  goodness. 
She  devoted  herself  to  nursing  me.  How  good  and 
kind  she  was  during  that  terrible  sickness.  When 
she  was  obliged  to  leave  me  to  attend  to  her  house- 
hold duties,  Lise  took  her  place,  and  many  times 
in  my  delirium  I  saw  little  Lise  sitting  at  the  foot 
of  my  bed  with  her  big  eyes  fixed  on  me  anxiously. 
In  my  delirium  I  thought  that  she  was  my  guard- 
ian angel,  and  I  would  speak  to  her  and  tell  her 
of  all  my  hopes  and  desires.  It  was  from  this  time 
that  I  began  to  consider  her  as  something  ideal,  as 
a  different  being  from  the  other  people  I  met.  It 
seemed  surprising  that  she  could  live  in  our  life; 
in  my  boyish  imagination  I  could  picture  her  flying 
away  with  big  white  wings  to  a  more  beautiful 
world. 

206 


206 NOBODY'S  BOY 

I  was  ill  for  a  very  long  time.  At  night,  when 
I  was  almost  suffocating,  I  had  to  have  some  one 
to  sit  up  with  me;  then  Alexix  and  Benny  would 
take  turns.  At  last  I  was  convalescent,  and  then 
it  was  Lise  who  replaced  Etiennette  and  walked 
with  me  down  by  the  river.  Of  course  during 
these  walks  she  could  not  talk,  but  strange  to  say 
we  had  no  need  of  words.  We  seemed  to  under- 
stand each  other  so  well  without  talking.  Then 
came  the  day  when  I  was  strong  enough  to  work 
with  the  others  in  the  garden.  I  had  been  impa- 
tient to  commence,  for  I  wanted  to  do  something 
for  my  kind  friends  who  had  done  so  much  for  me. 

As  I  was  still  weak,  the  task  that  was  given  to 
me  was  in  proportion  to  my  strength.  Every 
morning  after  the  frost  had  passed,  I  had  to  lift 
the  glass  frames  and  at  night,  before  it  got  chilly, 
I  had  to  close  them  again.  During  the  day  I  had 
to  shade  the  wall  flowers  with  straw  coverings  to 
protect  them  from  the  sun.  This  was  not  difficult 
to  do,  but  it  took  all  my  time,  for  I  had  several 
hundred  glasses  to  move  twice  daily. 

Days  and  months  passed.  I  was  very  happy. 
Sometimes  I  thought  that  I  was  too  happy,  it  could 
not  last.  M.  Acquin  was  considered  one  of  the 
cleverest  florists  round  about  Paris.  After  the 
wrall  flower  season  was  over  other  flowers  replaced 
them. 

For  many  weeks  we  had  been  working  very  hard, 
as  the  season  promised  to  be  an  especially  good 
one.  We  had  not  even  taken  a  rest  on  Sunday,  but 


DISASTER  207 


as  all  the  flowers  were  now  perfect  and  ready  for 
the  approaching  season,  it  was  decided  that,  for  a 
reward,  we  were  all  to  go  and  have  dinner  on  Sun- 
day, August  5th,  with  one  of  M.  Acquin's  friends, 
who  Was  also  a  florist.  Capi  was  to  be  one  of  the 
party.  We  were  to  work  until  four  o'clock,  and 
when  all  was  finished  we  were  to  lock  the  gates 
and  go  to  Arcueil.  Supper  was  for  six  o'clock. 
After  supper  we  were  to  come  home  at  once,  so  as 
not  to  be  late  in  getting  to  bed,  as  Monday  morning 
we  had  to  be  up  bright  and  early,  ready  for  work. 
A  few  minutes  before  four  we  were  all  ready. 

"  Come  on,  all  of  you,"  cried  M.  Acquin  gayly. 
"  I'm  going  to  lock  the  gates." 

"  Come,  Capi." 

Taking  Lise  by  the  hand,  I  began  to  run  with 
her;  Capi  jumped  around  us,  barking.  We  were 
all  dressed  up  in  our  best  and  looking  forward  to 
a  good  dinner.  Some  people  turned  round  to  watch 
us  as  we  passed.  I  don't  know  what  I  looked  like, 
but  Lise  in  her  blue  dress  and  white  shoes  was  the 
prettiest  little  girl  that  one  could  see.  Time 
passed  quickly. 

We  were  having  dinner  out  of  doors  when,  just 
as  we  had  finished,  one  of  us  remarked  how  dark 
it  was  getting.  Clouds  were  gathering  quickly  in 
the  sky. 

"  Children,  we  must  go  home,"  said  M.  Acquin, 
"  there's  going  to  be  a  storm." 

"  Go,  already !  "  came  the  chorus. 

"  If  the  wind  rises,  all  the  glasses  will  be  upset." 


208 NOBODY'S  BOY 

We  all  knew  the  value  of  those  glass  frames  and 
what  they  mean  to  a  florist.  It  would  be  terrible 
for  us  if  the  wind  broke  ours. 

"  I'll  hurry  ahead  with  Benny  and  Alexix,"  the 
father  said.  "  Remi  can  come  on  with  Etiennette 
and  Lise." 

They  rushed  off.  Etiennette  and  I  followed 
more  slowly  with  Lise.  No  one  laughed  now. 
The  sky  grew  darker.  The  storm  was  coming 
quickly.  Clouds  of  dust  swirled  around  us;  we 
had  to  turn  our  backs  and  cover  our  eyes  with  our 
hands,  for  the  dust  blinded  us.  There  was  a  streak 
of  lightning  across  the  sky,  then  came  a  heavy  clap 
of  thunder. 

Etiennette  and  I  had  taken  Lise  by  the  hands; 
we  were  trying  to  drag  her  along  faster,  but  she 
could  scarcely  keep  up  with  us.  Would  the  father, 
Benny  and  Alexix  get  home  before  the  storm 
broke?  If  they  were  only  in  time  to  close  the  glass 
cases  so  that  the  wind  could  not  get  under  them 
and  upset  them!  The  thunder  increased;  the 
clouds  were  so  heavy  that  it  seemed  almost  night. 
Then  suddenly  there  was  a  downpour  of  hail,  the 
stones  struck  us  in  the  face,  and  we  had  to  race  to 
take  shelter  under  a  big  gateway. 

In  a  minute  the  road  was  covered  with  white, 
like  in  winter.  The  hailstones  were  as  large  as 
pigeon  eggs;  as  they  fell  they  made  a  deafening 
sound,  and  every  now  and  again  we  could  hear  the 
crash  of  broken  glass.  With  the  hailstones,  as 
they  slid  from  the  roofs  to  the  street,  fell  all  sorts 


DISASTER  209 


of  things,  pieces  of  slate,  chimney  pots,  tiles, 
etc. 

"  Oh,  the  glass  frames !  "  cried  Etiennette, 

I  had  the  same  thought. 

"  Even  if  they  get  there  before  the  hail,  they  will 
never  have  time  to  cover  the  glasses  with  straw. 
Everything  will  be  ruined." 

"  They  say  that  hail  only  falls  in  places/'  I  said, 
trying  to  hope  still. 

"  Oh,  this  is  too, near  home  for  us  to  escape.  If 
it  falls  on  the  garden  the  same  as  here,  poor  father 
will  be  ruined.  And  he  counted  so  much  on  those 
flowers,  he  needs  the  money  so  badly." 

I  had  heard  that  the  glass  frames  cost  as  much 
as  1800  francs  a  hundred,  and  I  knew  what  a  dis- 
aster it  would  be  if  the  hail  broke  our  five  or  six 
hundred,  without  counting  the  plants  and  the  con- 
servatories. I  would  liked  to  have  questioned 
Etiennette,  but  we  could  scarcely  hear  each  other 
speak,  and  she  did  not  seem  disposed  to  talk.  She 
looked  at  the  hail  falling  with  a  hopeless  expres- 
sion, like  a  person  would  look  upon  his  house 
burning. 

The  hurricane  lasted  but  a  short  while;  it 
stopped  as  suddenly  as  it  had  commenced.  It 
lasted  perhaps  six  minutes.  The  clouds  swept 
over  Paris  and  we  were  able  to  leave  our  shelter. 
The  hailstones  were  thick  on  the  ground.  Lise 
could  not  walk  in  them  in  her  thin  shoes,  so  I  took 
her  on  my  back  and  carried  her.  Her  pretty  face, 
which  was  ao  bright  when  going  to  the  party,  was 


210 NOBODY'S  BOY 

now  grief-stricken  and  the  tears  rolled  down  her 
cheeks. 

Before  long  we  reached  the  house.  The  big 
gates  were  open  and  we  went  quickly  into  the  gar- 
den. What  a  sight  met  our  eyes!  All  the  glass 
frames  were  smashed  to  atoms.  Flowers,  pieces  of 
glass  and  hailstones  were  all  heaped  together  in 
our  once  beautiful  garden.  Everything  was  shat- 
tered! 

Where  was  the  father? 

We  searched  for  him.  Last  of  all  we  found  him 
in  the  big  conservatory,  of  which  every  pane  of 
glass  was  broken.  He  was  seated  on  a  wheelbar- 
row in  the  midst  of  the  debris  which  covered  the 
ground.  Alexix  and  Benjamin  stood  beside  him 
silently. 

"  My  children,  my  poor  little  ones ! "  he  cried, 
when  we  all  were  there. 

He  took  Lise  in  his  arms  and  began  to  sob.  He 
said  nothing  more.  What  could  he  have  said? 
It  was  a  terrible  catastrophe,  but  the  consequences 
were  still  more  terrible.  I  soon  learned  this  from 
Etiennette. 

Ten  years  ago  their  father  had  bought  the  gar- 
den and  had  built  the  house  himself.  The  man 
who  had  sold  him  the  ground  had  also  lent  him  the 
money  to  buy  the  necessary  materials  required  by 
a  florist.  The  amount  was  payable  in  yearly  pay- 
ments for  fifteen  years.  The  man  was  only  wait- 
ing for  an  occasion  when  the  florist  would  be  late 
in  payment  to  take  back  the  ground,  house,  mate- 


DISASTER  211 


rial ;  keeping,  of  course,  the  ten-year  payments  that 
he  had  already  received. 

This  was  a  speculation  on  the  man's  part,  for  he 
had  hoped  that  before  the  fifteen  years  expired 
there  would  come  a  day  when  the  florist  would  be 
unable  to  meet  his  notes.  This  day  had  come  at 
last!  Now  what  was  going  to  happen? 

We  were  not  left  long  in  doubt.  The  day  after 
the  notes  fell  due  —  this  sum  which  was  to  have 
been  paid  from  the  sale  of  his  season's  flowers  —  a 
gentleman  dressed  all  in  black  came  to  the  house 
and  handed  us  a  stamped  paper.  It  was  the  proc- 
ess server.  He  came  often;  so  many  times  that 
he  soon  began  to  know  us  by  name. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mile.  Etiennette?  Hello, 
Remi ;  hello,  Alexix ! " 

And  he  handed  us  his  stamped  paper  smilingly, 
as  though  we  were  friends.  The  father  did  not 
stay  in  the  house.  He  was  always  out.  He  never 
told  us  where  he  went.  Probably  he  went  to  call 
on  business  men,  or  he  might  have  been  at  court. 

What  would  the  result  be?  A  part  of  the  winter 
passed.  As  we  were  unable  to  repair  the  conserva- 
tories and  renew  the  glass  frames,  we  cultivated 
vegetables  and  hardier  flowers  that  did  not  demand 
shelter.  They  were  not  very  productive,  but  at 
least  it  was  something,  and  it  was  work  for  us. 
One  evening  the  father  returned  home  more  de- 
pressed than  usual. 

"  Children,"  he  said,  "  it  is  all  over." 

I  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  for  I  felt  that  he 


212 NOBODY'S  BOY 

had  something  serious  to  say  to  his  children.    He 
signed  to  me  to  stop. 

"You  are  one  of  the  family,  Remi,"  he  said 
sadly,  "  and  although  you  are  not  very  old,  you 
know  what  trouble  is.  Children,  I  am  going  to 
leave  you." 

There  was  a  cry  on  all  sides. 

Lise  flung  her  arms  round  her  father's  neck.  He 
held  her  very  tight. 

"Ah,  it's  hard  to  leave  you,  dear  children,"  he 
said,  "  but  the  courts  have  ordered  me  to  pay,  and 
as  I  have  no  money,  everything  here  has  to  be  sold, 
and  as  that  is  not  enough,  I  have  to  go  to  prison 
for  five  years.  As  I  am  not  able  to  pay  with  my 
money,  I  have  to  pay  with  my  liberty." 

We  all  began  to  cry. 

"  Yes,  it's  sad,"  he  continued  brokenly,  "  but  a 
man  can't  do  anything  against  the  law.  My  at- 
torney says  that  it  used  to  be  worse  than  it  is." 

There  was  a  tearful  silence. 

"  This  is  what  I  have  decided  is  the  best  thing 
to  do,"  continued  the  father.  "  Remi,  who  is  the 
best  scholar,  will  write  to  my  sister  Catherine  and 
explain  the  matter  to  her  and  ask  her  to  come  to 
us.  Aunt  Catherine  has  plenty  of  common  sense 
and  she  will  be  able  to  decide  what  should  be  done 
for  the  best." 

It  was  the  first  time  that  I  had  written  a  letter, 
and  this  was  a  very  painful  one,  but  we  still  had  a 
ray  of  hope.  We  were  very  ignorant  children  and 
the  fact  that  Aunt  Catherine  was  coming,  and  that 


DISASTER 213 

she  was  practical,  made  us  hope  that  everything 
could  be  made  right.  But  she  did  not  come  as  soon 
as  we  had  hoped.  A  few  days  later  the  father  had 
just  left  the  house  to  call  on  one  of  his  friends, 
when  he  met  the  police  face  to  face  coming  for 
him.  He  returned  to  the  house  with  them ;  he  was 
very  pale;  he  had  come  to  say  good-by  to  his  chil- 
dren. 

"  Don't  be  so  downcast,  man,"  said  one  of  them 
who  had  come  to  take  him ;  "to  be  in  prison  for 
debt  is  not  so  dreadful  as  you  seem  to  think. 
You'll  find  some  very  good  fellows  there." 

I  went  to  fetch  the  two  boys,  who  were  in  the 
garden.  Little  Lise  was  sobbing;  one  of  the  men 
stooped  down  and  whispered  something  in  her  ear, 
but  I  did  not  hear  what  he  said. 

The  parting  was  over  very  quickly.  M.  Acquin 
caught  Lise  up  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  again 
and  again,  then  he  put  her  down,  but  she  clung  to 
his  hand.  Then  he  kissed  Etiennette,  Alexix  and 
Benny  and  gave  Lise  into  her  sister's  care.  I 
stood  a  little  apart,  but  he  came  to  me  and  kissed 
me  affectionately,  just  like  the  others,  and  then 
they  took  him  away.  We  all  stood  in  the  middle 
of  the  kitchen  crying;  not  one  of  us  had  a  word 
to  say. 

Aunt  Catherine  arrived  an  hour  later.  We  were 
still  crying  bitterly.  For  a  country  woman  who 
had  no  education  or  money,  the  responsibility  that 
had  fallen  upon  her  was  heavy.  A  family  of  desti- 
tute children,  the  eldest  not  yet  sixteen,  the 


214 NOBODY'S  BOY 

youngest  a  dumb  girl.  Aunt  Catherine  had  been 
a  nurse  in  a  lawyer's  family;  she  at  once  called 
upon  this  man  to  ask  his  advice,  and  it  was  he  who 
decided  our  fate.  When  she  returned  from  the 
lawyer's,  she  told  us  what  had  been  arranged. 
Lise  was  to  go  and  live  with  her.  Alexix  was  to 
go  to  an  uncle  at  Varses,  Benny  to  another  uncle, 
who  was  a  florist  at  Saint-Quentin,  and  Etiennette 
to  an  aunt  who  lived  at  the  seashore. 

I  listened  to  these  plans,  waiting  until  they  came 
to  me.  When  Aunt  Catherine  ceased  speaking, 
and  I  had  not  been  mentioned,  I  said,  "  And 
me?  .  .  ." 

"  Why,  you  don't  belong  to  the  family." 

"  I'll  work  for  you." 

"  You're  not  one  of  the  family." 

"Ask  Alexix  and  Benny  if  I  can't  work,  and  I 
like  work." 

"And  soup,  also,  eh?" 

"  But  he's  one  of  the  family ;  yes,  aunt,  he's  one 
of  the  family,"  came  from  all  sides. 

Lise  came  forwards  and  clasped  her  hands  before 
her  aunt  with  an  expression  that  said  more  than 
words. 

"  Poor  mite,"  said  Aunt  Catherine,  "  I  know 
you'd  like  him  to  come  and  live  with  us,  but  we 
can't  always  get  what  we  want.  You're  my  niece, 
and  if  my  man  makes  a  face  when  I  take  you  home, 
all  I've  to  tell  him  is  that  you're  a  relation,  and 
I'm  going  to  have  you  with  me.  It  will  be  like 


DISASTER  215 

that  with  your  other  uncles  and  aunts.  They  will 
take  a  relation,  but  not  strangers." 

I  felt  there  was  nothing  to  say.  What  she  said 
was  only  too  true.  I  was  not  one  of  the  family. 
I  could  claim  nothing,  ask  nothing;  that  would  be 
begging.  And  yet  I  loved  them  all  and  they  all 
loved  me.  Aunt  Catherine  sent  us  to  bed,  after 
telling  us  that  we  were  to  be  parted  the  next  day. 

Scarcely  had  we  got  upstairs  than  they  all 
crowded  round  me.  Lise  clung  to  me,  crying. 
Then  I  knew,  that  in  spite  of  their  grief  at  parting 
from  one  another,  it  was  of  me  that  they  thought; 
they  pitied  me  because  I  was  alone.  I  felt,  indeed, 
then  that  I  was  their  brother.  Suddenly  an  idea 
came  to  me. 

"  Listen,"  I  said ;  "  even  if  your  aunts  and  uncles 
don't  want  me,  I  can  see  that  you  consider  me  one 
of  the  family." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  they  all  cried. 

Lise,  who  could  not  speak,  just  squeezed  my 
hand  and  looked  up  at  me  with  her  big,  beautiful 
eyes. 

"  Well,  I'm  a  brother,  and  I'll  prove  it,"  I  said 
stoutly. 

"  There's  a  job  with  Pernuit ;  shall  I  go  over  and 
speak  to  him  to-morrow?  "  asked  Etiennette. 

"  I  don't  want  a  job.  If  I  take  a  job  I  shall  have 
to  stay  in  Paris,  and  I  shan't  see  you  again.  I'm 
going  to  put  on  my  sheepskin  and  take  my  harp, 
and  go  first  to  one  place  and  then  to  another  where 


216 NOBODY'S  BOY 

you  are  all  going  to  live.  I  shall  see  you  all  one 
after  the  other,  and  I'll  carry  the  news  from  one 
to  the  other,  so  you'll  all  be  in  touch.  I  haven't 
forgotten  my  songs  nor  my  dance  music,  and  I'll 
get  enough  money  to  live." 

Every  face  beamed.  I  was  glad  they  were  so 
pleased  with  my  idea.  For  a  long  time  we  talked, 
then  Etiennette  made  each  one  go  to  bed,  but 
no  one  slept  much  that  night,  I  least  of  all.  The 
next  day  at  daybreak  Lise  took  me  into  the 
garden. 

"  You  want  to  speak  to  me?  "  I  asked. 

She  nodded  her  head. 

"You  are  unhappy  because  we  are  going  to  be 
parted?  You  need  not  tell  me;  I  can  see  it  in 
your  eyes,  and  I  am  unhappy,  too." 

She  made  a  sign  that  it  was  something  else  she 
wanted  to  say. 

"  In  fifteen  days  I  shall  be  at  Dreuzy,  where 
you  are  going  to  live." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  You  don't  want  me  to  go  to  Dreuzy?  " 

In  order  for  us  to  understand  each  other,  I  made 
more  progress  by  questioning.  She  replied  either 
with  a  nod  or  a  shake  of  the  head.  She  told  me 
that  she  wanted  to  see  me  at  Dreuzy,  but  pointing 
her  finger  in  three  directions,  she  made  me  under- 
stand that  I  must  first  go  and  see  her  brothers  and 
sister. 

"You  want  me  first  to  go  to  Varses,  then  Es- 
nandes  and  then  Saint-Quentin?  " 


DISASTER  217 


She  smiled  and  nodded,  pleased  that  I  under- 
stood. 

"Why?" 

Then  with  her  lips  and  hands,  and  above  all  with 
her  eyes,  she  explained  to  me  why  she  wished  this. 
She  wanted  me  to  go  and  see  her  sister  and  broth- 
ers first,  so  that  when  I  reached  Dreuzy  I  could 
tell  her  news  of  them.  They  had  to  start  at  eight 
o'clock,  and  Aunt  Catherine  had  ordered  a  cab  to 
take  them,  first  of  all  to  the  prison  to  say  good-by 
to  their  father,  and  then  each,  with  their  baggage, 
to  the  different  depots  where  they  had  to  take  their 
trains.  At  seven  o'clock  Etiennette,  in  her  turn, 
took  me  in  the  garden. 

"  I  want  to  give  you  a  little  keepsake,  Remi," 
she  said.  "  Take  this  little  case ;  my  godfather 
gave  it  to  me.  You'll  find  thread,  needles  and  scis- 
sors in  it ;  when  you  are  tramping  along  the  roads 
you'll  need  them,  for  I  shan't  be  there  to  put  a 
patch  on  your  clothes,  nor  sew  a  button  on.  When 
you  use  my  scissors,  think  of  us  all." 

While  Etiennette  was  speaking  to  me,  Alexix 
loitered  near;  when  she  left  me  to  return  to  the 
house,  he  came  up. 

"  Say,  Remi,"  he  began,  "  I've  got  two  five  franc 
pieces.  Take  one;  I'll  be  so  pleased  if  you  will." 

Of  the  five  of  us,  Alexix  was  the  only  one  who 
cared  very  much  for  money.  We  always  made  fun 
of  his  greed;  he  saved  up  sou  by  sou,  counting 
his  hoard  continually.  He  was  always  very  proud 
when  he  had  a  brand  new  piece.  His  offer  touched 


218 NOBODY'S  BOY 

me  to  the  heart ;  I  wanted  to  refuse,  but  he  insisted, 
and  slipped  a  shiny  silver  piece  into  my  hand.  I 
knew  that  his  friendship  for  me  must  be  very 
strong  if  he  were  willing  to  share  his  treasure  with 
me. 

Benjamin,  neither,  had  forgotten  me;  he  also 
wanted  to  give  me  a  present.  He  gave  me  his 
knife,  and  in  exchange  he  exacted  a  sou,  because 
he  said  "  a  knife  cuts  friendship." 

The  time  passed  quickly.  The  moment  had 
come  for  us  to  part.  As  the  cab  was  drawing  up 
at  the  house,  Lise  again  made  a  sign  for  me  to  fol- 
low her  into  the  garden. 

"  Lise !  "  called  her  aunt. 

She  made  no  reply,  but  ran  quickly  down  the 
path.  She  stopped  at  a  big  Bengal  rose  tree  and 
cut  off  a  branch,  then,  turning  to  me,  she  divided 
the  stalk  in  two;  there  was  a  rose  on  either  side. 
The  language  of  the  lips  is  a  small  thing  compared 
with  the  language  of  the  eyes ;  how  cold  and  empty 
are  words  compared  with  looks! 

"  Lise !     Lise !  "  cried  her  aunt. 

The  baggage  was  already  in  the  cab.  I  took 
down  my  harp  and  called  to  Capi.  At  the  sight 
of  my  old  suit,  he  jumped  and  barked  with  joy. 
He  loved  his  liberty  on  the  high  roads  more  than 
being  closed  up  in  the  garden.  They  all  got  into 
the  cab.  I  lifted  Lise  onto  her  aunt's  lap.  I 
stood  there  half  dazed,  then  the  aunt  gently  pushed 
me  away  and  closed  the  door.  They  were  off. 

Through  a  mist  I  watched  Lise  as  she  leaned 


DISASTER  219 


out  of  the  window  waving  her  hand  to  me,  then 
the  cab  sharply  turned  the  corner  of  the  street  and 
all  I  could  see  was  a  cloud  of  dust. 

Leaning  on  my  harp,  with  Capi  sprawling  at  my 
feet,  I  stayed  there  looking  absently  down  the 
street.  A  neighbor,  who  had  been  asked  to  lock  up 
the  house  and  keep  the  key,  called  to  me: 

"Are  you  going  to  stay  there  all  day?" 

"  No,  I'm  off  now." 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"  Straight  ahead." 

"  If  you'd  like  to  stay,"  he  said,  perhaps  out  of 
pity,  "  I'll  keep  you,  but  I  can't  pay  you,  because 
you're  not  very  strong.  Later  I  might  give  you 
something." 

I  thanked  him,  but  said  no. 

"  Well,  as  you  like ;  I  was  only  thinking  for  your 
own  good.  Good-by  and  good  luck !  " 

He  went  away.  The  cab  had  gone,  the  house 
was  locked  up. 

I  turned  away  from  the  home  where  I  had  lived 
for  two  years,  and  where  I  had  hoped  always  to 
live.  The  sky  was  clear,  the  weather  warm,  very 
different  from  the  icy  night  when  poor  Vitalis  and 
I  had  fallen  exhausted  by  the  wall. 

So  these  two  years  had  only  been  a  halt  I  must 
go  on  my  way  again.  But  the  stay  had  done  me 
good.  It  had  given  me  strength  and  I  had  made 
dear  friends.  I  was  not  now  alone  in  the  world, 
and  I  had  an  object  inlife.  to  be  useful  and  give 
pleasure  to  those  I  lovedT 


CHAPTER  XX 

MATTIA 

THE  world  was  before  me;  I  could  go  where  I 
liked,  north,  south,  east  or  west.  I  was  my 
own  master.  How  many  children  there  are  who 
say  to  themselves,  "  If  I  could  only  do  as  I  liked, 
...  if  I  were  my  own  master ! "  And  how  impa- 
tiently they  look  forward  to  this  day  when  they  can 
do  the  things  they  have  longed  to  do,  .  .  .  often 
very  foolish  things.  Between  these  children  and 
myself  there  was  a  vast  difference.  When  they  do 
anything  foolish  there  is  a  hand  stretched  out,  and 
they  are  picked  up  if  they  fall.  If  I  fell  I  should 
go  down,  down,  down,  and  I  might  not  be  able  to 
pick  myself  up  again.  I  was  afraid.  I  knew  the 
dangers  that  beset  me. 

Before  beginning  my  wanderings  I  wanted  to  see 
the  man  who  had  been  so  good  to  me.  Aunt  Cath- 
erine had  not  wished  to  take  me  with  them  when 
they  had  gone  to  say  good-by,  but  I  felt  that,  at 
least,  I  could  go  and  see  him  now  that  I  was  alone. 

I  did  not  dare  walk  across  Paris  with  Capi  run- 
ning at  my  heels.  I  was  afraid  that  a  policeman 
would  stop  and  question  me.  My  greatest  fear 

was  the  police.    I  tied  a  string  to  Capi's  collar. 

220 


MATTIA  221 

I  was  loath  to  do  this,  for  I  knew  that  it  hurt  his 
self-respect',  but  it  had  to  be,  and  in  this  humili- 
ating manner  I  dragged  him  along  to  the  Clichy 
prison,  where  M.  Acquin  was  serving  his  sentence. 
For  some  moments  I  looked  in  a  sort  of  fear  at  the 
great  prison  doors,  thinking  that  perhaps  once 
they  had  closed  on  me  I  might  not  be  able  to  get 
out  again.  I  found  it  more  difficult  than  I  had 
thought  to  get  into  a  prison,  but  I  would  not  be 
discouraged.  After  much  waiting  and  question- 
ing, I  was  finally  permitted  to  see  M.  Acquin. 

"  Ah,  Kemi,  boy,  I  was  expecting  you,"  he  said, 
as  I  entered  the  room  where  visitors  were  allowed 
to  see  the  prisoners.  "  I  scolded  Aunt  Catherine 
for  not  bringing  you  with  the  others." 

I  brightened  up  at  these  words. 

"  The  children  tell  me  that  you  are  going  on  your 
wanderings  again.  Have  you  forgotten  that  you 
almost  died  of  cold  and  hunger,  my  boy?  " 

"  No,  I've  not  forgotten  that." 

"  You  were  not  alone  then ;  you  had  some  one  to 
look  after  you.  At  your  age  I  don't  think  it  is 
right  to  go  tramping  across  the  country  alone." 

"  You  don't  want  me  to  bring  you  news  of  your 
children,  then?  "  I  asked. 

"  They  told  me  that  you  were  going  to  see  them 
all,  one  after  the  other,"  he  replied,  "  but  I  am  not 
thinking  of  us  when  I  ask  you  to  give  up  this  wau- 
dering  life." 

"  And  if  I  do  what  you  ask  I  should  be  thinking 
of  myself  and  not  of  you  ...  of  Lise." 


222 NOBODY'S  BOY 

This  time  he  looked  at  me  for  several  seconds, 
then  he  suddenly  took  both  my  hands. 

"  You  have  a  heart,  and  I  will  not  say  another 
word,  my  boy.  God  will  take  care  of  you." 

I  threw  my  arms  round  his  neck;  the  time  had 
come  for  me  to  say  good-by.  For  some  moments  he 
held  me  in  silence,  then  suddenly  he  felt  in  his  vest 
pocket  and  pulled  out  a  large  silver  watch. 

"  Here,  boy,  take  this,"  he  said.  "  I  want  you 
to  have  it  as  a  keepsake.  It  isn't  of  much  value; 
if  it  had  been  I'd  have  sold  it.  It  doesn't  keep 
good  time,  either.  When  anything  is  wrong  with 
it,  just  give  it  a  thump.  It  is  all  I  have." 

I  wanted  to  refuse  such  a  beautiful  present,  but 
he  forced  it  into  my  closed  hands. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  need  to  know  the  time,"  he  said 
sadly ;  "  the  hours  pass  slowly  enough.  I  should 
die  counting  them.  Good-by,  little  Remi;  always 
remember  to  be  a  good  boy." 

I  was  very  unhappy.  How  good  he  had  been  to 
me!  I  lingered  round  the  prison  doors  for  a  long 
time  after  I  had  left  him.  I  might  have  stayed 
there  perhaps  until  night  if  I  had  not  suddenly 
touched  a  hard  round  object  in  my  pocket.  My 
watch! 

All  my  grief  was  forgotten  for  the  moment. 
My  watch!  My  very  own  watch  by  which  I  could 
tell  the  time.  I  pulled  it  out  to  see  the  hour. 
Midday!  It  was  a  matter  of  small  importance 
whether  it  was  midday,  ten  o'clock  or  two  o'clock. 
Yet,  I  was  very  pleased  that  it  was  midday.  It 


MATTIA  223 

would  have  been  hard  to  say  why,  but  such  was 

the  case.    I  knew  that  it  was  midday;  my  watch 

'told  me  so.     What  an  affair!     It  seemed  to  me 

that  a  watch  was  a  sort  of  confidential  friend  of 

,£»whom  one  could  ask  advice  and  to  whom  one  could 

« talk. 

"  Friend  watch,  what's  the  time?  " 
"Just  twelve  o'clock,  my  dear  Remi." 
"  Really !    Then  it's  time  for  me  to  do  this  or 
that.    A  good  thing  you  reminded  me;  if  you  had 
not,  I  should  have  forgotten." 

In  my  joy  I  had  not  noticed  that  Capi  was  al- 
most :as  pleased  as  myself.  He  pulled  me  by  the 
leg  of  my  trousers  and  barked  several  times.  As 

-  continued  to  bark,  I  was  forced  to  bestow  some 

• 

attention  upon  him. 

tfu  what  do  you  want,  Capi?  "  I  asked. 

He  looked  at  me,  but  I  failed  to  understand  him. 
•  He  waited  some  moments,  then  came  and  stood  up 
against  me,  putting  his  paws  on  the  pocket  where 
I  had  placed  my  watch.  He  wanted  to  know  the 
time  to  tell  the  "  distinguished  audience,"  like  in 
the  days  when  he  had  worked  with  Vitalis. 

I  showed  the  watch  to  him.  He  looked  at  it 
for  some  time,  as  thougK  trying  to  remember,  then, 
wagging  his  tail,  he  barked  twelve  times.  •  He  had 
not  forgotten!  We  could  earn  money  with  fay 
watch!  That  was  something  I  had  not  c^utfted 
upon. 

Forward  march,  children! 

I  took  one  last  look  at  the  prison,  behind  the 


224 NOBODY'S  BOY 

walls  of  which  little  Lise's  father  was  shut,  then 
went  on  my  way. 

The  thing  I  needed  most  of  all  was  a  map  of 
France.  Knowing  that  in  the  book  stalls  on  the 
quays  I  could  procure  one,  I  wended  my  way  to- 
wards the  river.  At  last  I  found  one  that  was  so 
yellow  that  the  man  let  me  have  it  for  fifteen  sous. 
'  I  was  able  to  leave  Paris  now,  and  I  decided  to 
do  so  at  once.  I  had  a  choice  between  two  roads. 
I  chose  the  road  to  Fontainebleau.  As  I  went  up 
the  Kue  Mouffetard,  a  host  of  memories  rushed 
upon  me.  Garofoli!  Mattia!  Kicardo!  the  soup 
pot  fastened  with  a  padlock,  the  whip,  and  Vitalis, 
my  poor,  good  master,  who  had  died  because  he 
would  not  rent  me  to  the  padrone.  As  I  passed 
the  church  I  saw  a  little  boy  leaning  against  the 
wall,  and  I  thought  I  recognized  him.  Surely  it 
was  Mattia,  the  boy  with  the  big  head,  the  great 
eyes  and  the  soft,  resigned  look.  But  then  he  had 
not  grown  one  inch!  I  went  nearer  to  see  better. 
Yes,  it  was  Mattia.  He  recognized  me.  His  pale 
face  broke  into  a  smile. 

"  Ah,  it's  you,"  he  said.  "  You  came  to  Garo- 
foli's  a  long  time  ago  with  an  old  man  with  a  white 
beard,  just  before  I  went  to  the  hospital.  Ah! 
how  I  used  to  suffer  with  my  head  then." 

"  Is  Garofoli  still  your  master?  " 

He  glanced  round  before  replying,  then  lowering 
his  voice  he  said :  "  Garofoli  is  in  prison.  They 
took  him  because  he  beat  Orlando  to  death." 

I  was  shocked  at  this.    I  was  pleased  to  hear 


MATTIA  225 

that  they  had  put  Garofoli  in  prison,  and  for  the 
first  time  I  thought  the  prisons,  which  inspired  me 
with  so  much  horror,  had  their  use. 

"And  the  other  boys?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  was  not  there  when  Garo- 
foli was  arrested.  When  I  came  out  of  the  hos- 
pital, Garofoli,  seeing  that  it  was  no  good  to  beat 
me  'cause  I  got  ill,  wanted  to  get  rid  of  me,  so  he 
sold  me  for  two  years  to  the  Gassot  Circus.  They 
paid  him  in  advance.  D'ye  know  the  Gassot  Cir- 
cus? No?  Well,  it's  not  much  of  a  circus,  but 
it's  a  circus  all  the  same.  They  wanted  a  child 
for  dislocation,  and  Garofoli  sold  me  to  Mr.  Gas- 
sot.  I  stayed  with  him  until  last  Monday,  when 
he  sent  me  off  because  my  head  was  too  big  to  go 
into  the  box.  After  leaving  the  circus  I  went  back 
to  find  Garofoli,  but  the  place  was  all  shut  up,  and 
a  neighbor  told  me  what  had  happened.  Now  that 
Garofoli's  in  prison  I  don't  know  where  to  go. 

"  And  I  haven't  any  money,"  he  added,  "  and  I 
haven't  had  a  bite  to  eat  since  yesterday." 

I  was  not  rich,  but  I  had  enough  to  give  some- 
thing to  poor  Mattia.  How  I  would  have  blessed 
one  who  would  have  given  me  a  crust  of  bread 
when  I  was  wandering  round  Toulouse,  famished 
like  Mattia  now. 

"  Stay  here  until  I  come  back,"  I  said. 

I  ran  to  a  bakery  at  the  corner  of  the  street  and 
soon  returned  with  a  roll,  which  I  offered  him.  He 
devoured  it  in  a  moment. 

"  Now,"  I  said,  "  what  do  you  want  to  do?  " 


226 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  I  don't  know.  I  was  trying  to  sell  my  violin 
when  you  spoke  to  me,  and  I  would  have  sold  it 
before,  if  I  hadn't  hated  to  part  with  it.  My  violin 
is  all  I  have  and  when  I'm  sad,  I  find  a  spot  where 
I  can  be  alone  and  play  to  myself.  Then  I  see  all 
sorts  of  beautiful  things  in  the  sky,  more  beautiful 
than  in  a  dream." 

"  Why  don't  you  play  your  violin  in  the  streets?  " 

"  I  did,  but  I  didn't  get  anything." 

How  well  I  knew  what  it  was  to  play  and  not 
get  a  coin. 

"  What  are  you  doing?  "  he  asked. 

I  don't  know  why,  but  on  the  spur  of  the  mo- 
ment, I  put  up  a  ridiculous  bluff. 

"  Fm  the  boss  of  a  company,"  I  said  proudly. 

It  was  true,  but  the  truth  was  very  near  a  false- 
hood. My  "  company  "  only  consisted  of  Capi. 

"  Oh,  will  you  .  .  ."  began  Mattia. 

"  What?  " 

"  Take  me  in  your  company?  " 

Not  wishing  to  deceive  him,  I  smiled  and  pointed 
to  Capi. 

"  But  that  is  all  the  company  I  have,"  I  said. 

"  Well,  what  does  that  matter?  I'll  be  another. 
Oh,  please  don't  leave  me;  I  shall  die  of  hunger! " 

Die  of  hunger!  His  words  seemed  to  strike  my 
very  heart.  I  knew  what  it  would  be  to  die  of 
hunger. 

"  I  can  play  the  violin,  and  I  can  dislocate," 
said  Mattia  breathlessly.  "  I  can  dance  on  the 


MATTIA 227 

tight  rope,  I  can  sing,  I'll  do  anything  you  like. 
I'll  be  your  servant ;  I'll  obey  you.  I  don't  ask  for 
money ;  food  only.  And  if  I  do  badly,  you  can  beat 
me,  that  is  understood.  All  that  I  ask  is,  that 
you  won't  strike  me  on  the  head ;  that  also  must  be 
understood,  because  my  head  is  very  sore  since 
Garofoli  beat  me  so  much  on  it." 

I  felt  like  crying,  to  hear  poor  little  Mattia 
speak  so.  How  could  I  refuse  to  take  him  with 
me.  Die  of  hunger !  But  with  me  there  was  also 
a  chance  that  he  might  die  of  hunger.  I  told  him 
so,  but  he  would  not  listen  to  me. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said ;  "  when  there  are  two,  one 
doesn't  starve,  because  one  helps  the  other.  The 
one  who  has  it  gives  to  the  one  who  hasn't" 

I  hesitated  no  longer.  As  I  had  some  I  must 
help  him. 

"  Well,  then,  it's  understood,"  I  said. 

Instantly  he  took  my  hand  and  actually  kissed 
it  in  gratitude. 

"  Come  with  me,"  I  said ;  "  not  as  a  servant, 
Mattia,  but  as  my  chum." 

Shouldering  my  harp,  I  gave  the  signal : 

"  Forward,  march !  " 

At  the  end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  we  had  left 
Paris  behind. 

I  left  Paris  by  this  route  because  I  wanted  to 
see  Mother  Barberin.  How  many  times  I  had 
wanted  to  write  to  her  and  tell  her  that  I  thought 
of  her,  and  that  I  loved  her  with  all  my  heart,  but 


228 NOBODY'S  BOY 

the  horrible  fear  of  Barberin  restrained  me.  If 
Barberin  found  me  by  means  of  my  letter,  he  might 
take  me  and  sell  me  to  another  man.  He  prob- 
ably had  the  right  to  do  so.  I  preferred  that 
Mother  Barberin  should  think  that  I  was  an  un- 
grateful boy  rather  than  run  the  risk  of  falling 
into  Barberin's  power. 

But  though  I  dared  not  write,  now  that  I  was 
free,  I  could  go  and  see  her.  Since  I  had  taken 
Mattia  into  my  "  company "  I  had  made  up  my 
mind  to  do  so,  for  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  could 
easily  be  arranged.  I  would  send  him  ahead  and 
he  could  find  out  if  she  were  alone,  and  then  tell 
her  that  I  was  not  far  off,  and  was  only  waiting 
to  know  if  it  were  safe  for  me  to  come  and  see  her. 
Then,  if  Barberin  were  in  the  village,  Mattia  could 
ask  her  to  come  to  some  safe  spot  where  I  could 
meet  her. 

I  tramped  along  in  silence,  working  out  this 
plan.  Mattia  trudged  by  my  side;  he  also  seemed 
to  be  thinking  deeply.  The  idea  came  to  me  to 
show  off  my  possessions  to  Mattia.  Unfastening 
my  bag,  I  proudly  spread  out  my  riches  on  the 
grass.  I  had  three  cotton  shirts,  three  pairs  of 
socks,  five  handkerchiefs,  all  in  good  condition,  and 
one  pair  of  shoes,  slightly  used. 

Mattia  was  awestruck. 

"  And  you,  what  have  you  got?  "  I  asked. 

"  I've  only  got  my  violin." 

"  Well,  we'll  go  shares,  now  we're  chums ;  you'll 
have  two  shirts,  two  pairs  of  socks,  and  three  hand- 


MATTIA 229 

kerchiefs,  but  as  it's  only  fair  that  we  go  shares  in 
everything,  you'll  carry  my  bag  for  one  hour  and 
I'll  carry  it  for  another." 

Mattia  wanted  to  refuse  the  things,  but  as  I  had 
quickly  fallen  into  the  habit  of  commanding, 
which,  I  must  say  I  found  very  pleasant,  I  told  him 
to  be  silent.  I  had  laid  out  Etiennette's  needle 
case  and  also  a  little  box  in  which  I  had  placed 
Lise's  rose.  Mattia  wanted  to  open  this  box,  but 
I  would  not  let  him.  I  put  it  back  in  my  bag  with- 
out even  lifting  the  lid. 

"  If  you  want  to  please  me,"  I  said,  "  you  will 
never  touch  this  box  .  .  .  it's  a  present." 

"  I  promise  never  to  touch  it,"  he  said  solemnly. 

Since  I  had  again  donned  my  sheepskin  and  my 
harp  there  was  one  thing  which  caused  me  serious 
thought.  That  was  my  trousers.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  an  artist  ought  not  to  wear  long  trousers ; 
to  appear  in  public  an  artist  should  have  short 
trousers  with  stockings  coming  over  them,  laced 
over  and  over  with  colored  ribbons.  Trousers 
were  all  right  for  a  gardener,  but  now  ...  I  was 
an  artist!  Yes,  I  must  wear  knickers.  I  quickly 
took  the  scissors  from  Etiennette's  work-case. 

"While  I  arrange  my  trousers,"  I  said  to  Mat- 
tia, "you  ought  to  show  me  how  you  play  the 
violin." 

"  Oh,  I'd  like  to." 

He  began  to  play,  while  I  boldly  stuck  the  points 
of  my  scissors  into  my  trousers  a  little  above  the 
knee.  I  commenced  to  cut  the  cloth. 


230  NOBODY'S  BOY 

Yet,  however,  they  were  a  beautiful  pair  of  gray 
cloth  trousers,  with  vest  and  coat  to  match,  and  I 
had  been  so  proud  of  them  when  M.  Acquin  had 
given  them  to  me,  but  I  did  not  consider  that  I 
was  spoiling  them  by  shortening  them,  quite  the 
contrary. 

At  first  I  scarcely  listened  to  Mattia;  I  was  too 
busy  cutting  my  trousers,  but  soon  I  stopped  ma- 
nipulating the  scissors  and  became  all  ears.  Mat- 
tia played  almost  as  well  as  Vitalis. 

"  Who  taught  you  the  violin?  "  I  asked,  clapping 
my  hands. 

"  No  one,  I  studied  alone." 

"  Hasn't  any  one  explained  to  you  anything 
about  music?  " 

"  No,  I  play  just  what  I  hear." 

"  I'll  teach  you,  I  will." 

"  You  know  everything,  then?  " 

"  Well  so  I  ought  to,  if  I'm  the  director." 

I  wanted  to  show  Mattia  that  I  also  was  a  mu- 
sician. I  took  my  harp  and,  wishing  to  impress 
him,  I  sang  the  famous  canzonette.  Then,  as  it 
should  be  between  artists,  he  complimented  me. 
He  had  great  talent.  We  were  worthy  of  each 
other. 

I  buckled  my  knapsack  and  Mattia,  in  turn, 
hoisted  it  on  his  shoulders. 

We  had  to  stop  at  the  first  village  to  give  a 
performance.  It  was  to  be  the  "  First  appearance 
of  Kemi's  Company." 


MATTIA 281 

"  Teach  me  your  song,"  said  Mattia ;  "  we'll  sing 
it  together,  and  I'll  soon  be  able  to  accompany  you 
on  the  violin.  That'll  be  pretty." 

Certainly,  that  would  be  pretty,  and  the  "dis- 
tinguished audience  "  would  have  a  heart  of  stone 
if  they  were  not  generous  in  their  offerings. 

At  the  first  village  that  we  came  to  we  had  to 
pass  before  a  large  farm  gate;  looking  in  we  saw  a 
crowd  of  people  dressed  up  in  their  best;  some  of 
them  carried  bouquets  tied  with  satin  streamers. 
It  was  a  wedding.  I  thought  that  perhaps  these 
people  might  like  a  little  music  and  dance,  so  I 
went  into  the  farmyard  and  suggested  it  to  the 
first  person  that  I  met.  This  was  a  big,  good-na- 
tured looking  man  with  a  red  face;  he  wore  a  tall 
white  collar  and  a  Prince  Albert  coat.  He  did  not 
reply  to  my  question,  but  turning  to  the  guests,  he 
put  his  two  fingers  in  his  mouth  and  gave  such  a 
shrill  whistle  that  it  frightened  Capi. 

"  Say,  you  all,"  he  cried,  "  what  about  a  little 
music;  the  musicians  have  arrived." 

"  Oh,  music !  music !  "  came  the  chorus. 

"  Take  your  places  for  the  quadrilles!  " 

The  dancers  soon  gathered  in  the  middle  of  the 
yard.  Mattia  and  I  took  our  places  up  in  a  wagon. 

"Can  you  play  the  quadrilles?"  I  whispered 
anxiously. 

«  Yes." 

He  struck  a  few  notes  on  his  violin.  By  luck  I 
knew  the  air.  We  were  saved.  Although  Mattia 


282 NOBODY'S  BOY 

and  I  had  never  played  together,  we  did  not  do 
badly.  It  is  true  the  people  had  not  much  ear  for 
music. 

"  Can  one  of  you  play  the  cornet?  "  asked  the 
big  man  with  the  red  face. 

"  I  can,"  said  Mattia,  "  but  I  haven't  the  instru- 
ment with  me." 

"  I'll  go  and  find  one;  the  violin's  pretty,  but  it's 
squeaky." 

I  found  that  day  that  Mattia  could  play  every- 
thing. We  played  until  night,  without  stopping. 
It  did  not  matter  for  me,  but  poor  Mattia  was  very 
weak.  From  time  to  time  I  saw  him  turn  pale 
as  though  he  felt  ill,  yet  he  continued  to  play, 
blowing  with  all  his  might.  Fortunately,  I  was 
not  the  only  one  who  saw  that  he  was  ill ;  the  bride 
remarked  it  also. 

"That's  enough,"  she  said;  "that  little  chap  is 
tired  out.  Now  all  hands  to  your  pockets  for  the 
musicians ! " 

I  threw  my  cap  to  Capi,  who  caught  it  in  his 
jaws. 

"Give  your  offerings  to  our  secretary,  if  you 
please,"  I  said. 

They  applauded,  and  were  delighted  at  the  man- 
ner in  which  Capi  bowed.  They  gave  generously; 
the  husband  was  the  last,  and  he  dropped  a  five 
franc  piece  in  the  cap.  The  cap  was  full  of  silver 
coins.  What  a  fortune! 

We  were  invited  to  supper,  and  they  gave  us  a 
place  to  sleep  in  the  hay  loft.  The  next  day  when 


MATTIA  233 

we  left  this  hospitable  farm  we  had  a  capital  of 
twenty-eight  francs! 

"  I  owe  this  to  you,  Mattia,"  I  said,  after  we  had 
counted  it ;  "I  could  not  have  made  an  orchestra 
all  alone." 

With  twenty-eight  francs  in  our  pockets  we  were 
rich.  When  we  reached  Corbeil  I  could  very  well 
afford  to  buy  a  few  things  that  I  considered  indis- 
pensable: first,  a  cornet,  which  would  cost  three 
francs  at  a  second-hand  shop,  then  some  red  rib- 
bons for  our  stockings  and,  lastly,  another  knap- 
sack. It  would  be  easier  to  carry  a  small  bag  all 
the  time  than  a  heavy  one  in  turns. 

"A  boss  like  you,  who  doesn't  beat  one,  is  too 
good,"  said  Mattia,  laughing  happily  from  time  to 
time. 

Our  prosperous  state  of  affairs  made  me  decide 
to  set  out  for  Mother  Barberin's  as  soon  as  possible. 
I  could  take  her  a  present.  I  was  rich  now. 
There  was  something  that,  more  than  anything 
else,  would  make  her  happy,  not  only  now,  but  in 
her  old  age  —  a  cow  that  would  replace  poor 
Bousette.  How  happy  she  would  be  if  I  gave  her 
a  cow,  and  how  proud  I  should  be.  Before  arriv- 
ing at  Chavanon  I  would  buy  a  cow  and  Mattia 
would  lead  it  by  a  rope,  right  into  Mother  Bar- 
berin's yard. 

Mattia  would  say  to  her :  "  Here  is  a  cow  I've 
brought  you." 

"A  cow!"  she  would  say;  "you've  made  a  mis- 
take, my  boy,"  and  she  would  sigh. 


234 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  No,  I  haven't,"  Mattia  would  answer ;  "  you're 
Mother  Barberin  of  Chevanon,  aren't  you?  Well, 
the  prince  (like  in  fairy  tales)  has  sent  you  this 
as  a  present." 

"  What  prince?  " 

Then  I  would  appear  and  take  her  in  my  arms, 
and  after  we  had  hugged  each  other  we  would  make 
some  pancakes  and  apple  fritters  which  would  be 
eaten  by  the  three  of  us  and  not  by  Barberin,  as  on 
that  Shrove  Tuesday  when  he  had  returned  to  up- 
set our  frying  pan  and  put  our  butter  in  his  onion 
soup.  What  a  beautiful  dream!  But  to  realize 
it  we  must  first  buy  the  cow ! 

How  much  would  a  cow  cost?  I  had  not  the 
slightest  idea;  a  great  deal  probably,  but  still  .  .  . 
I  did  not  want  a  very  big  cow.  Because  the  fatter 
the  cow  the  higher  the  price,  and  then  the  bigger 
the  cow  the  more  nourishment  it  would  require, 
and  I  did  not  want  my  present  to  be  a  source  of  in- 
convenience to  Mother  Barberin.  The  essential, 
for  the  moment,  was  to  find  out  the  price  of  cows 
or,  rather,  of  a  cow  of  the  kind  that  I  wanted. 
Fortunately,  that  was  not  difficult  for  we  often 
met  many  farmers  and  cattle  dealers  at  the  dif- 
ferent villages  where  we  stopped.  I  put  the  ques- 
tion to  the  first  I  met  at  the  inn  that  day. 

He  burst  out  laughing  and  gave  a  bang  on  the 
table.  Then  he  called  the  landlady. 

"  This  little  musician  wants  to  know  how  much  a 
cow  costs,  not  a  very  large  one,  but  a  very  healthy 
one  that'll  give  plenty  of  milk ! " 


MATTIA 285 

Every  one  laughed.     I  didn't  care,  though. 

"  Yes,  she  must  give  good  milk  and  not  eat  too 
much,"  I  said. 

"  And  she  mustn't  mind  being  led  along  the  lanes 
by  a  halter." 

When  he  had  had  his  laugh,  he  was  quite  willing 
to  enter  a  discussion  with  me,  and  to  take  the  mat- 
ter seriously.  He  had  just  the  very  thing,  a 
nice  cow  which  gave  delicious  milk  —  real  cream! 
—  and  she  hardly  ate  anything.  If  I  would  put 
down  fifty  £cus,  the  cow  was  mine.  Although  I 
had  had  trouble  in  making  him  talk  at  first,  once 
he  commenced  it  was  difficult  to  stop  him.  Fi- 
nally, we  were  able  to  retire  for  the  night,  and  I 
dreamed  of  all  I  had  learned  from  him. 

Fifty  6cus;  that  was  one  hundred  and  fifty 
francs!  I  had  nothing  like  that  great  sum.  Per- 
haps if  our  luck  still  continued  I  could,  if  I  saved 
sou  by  sou,  get  together  the  hundred  and  fifty 
francs.  But  it  would  take  time.  In  that  case  we 
should  have  to  go,  first  of  all,  to  Varses  and  see 
Benny  and  give  all  the  performances  that  we  could 
on  our  way.  And  then  on  our  return  we  would 
have  the  money  and  we  would  go  to  Chavanon  and 
act  the  fairy  tale,  "  The  Prince's  Cow." 

I  told  Mattia  of  my  plan  and  he  raised  no  ob- 
jections. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

MEETING  OLD  FRIENDS 

IT  took  us  nearly  three  months  to  do  this  jour- 
ney, but  when  at  last  we  reached  the  outskirts 
of  Varses  we  found  that  we  had  indeed  employed 
our  time  well.  In  my  leather  purse  I  now  had 
one  hundred  and  twenty-eight  francs.  We  were 
only  short  of  twenty-two  francs  to  buy  Mother 
Barberin's  cow. 

Mattia  was  almost  as  pleased  as  I,  and  he  was 
very  proud  that  he  had  contributed  his  part  to 
such  a  sum.  His  part  was  great,  for  I  am  sure 
that  without  him,  Capi  and  I  could  not  have  col- 
lected anything  like  the  sum  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty-eight  francs!  From  Varses  to  Chavanon 
we  could  easily  gain  the  twenty-two  francs  that 
we  were  short. 

It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  we 
arrived  at  Varses  and  a  radiant  sun  shone  in  the 
clear  sky,  but  the  nearer  we  got  to  the  town  the 
darker  became  the  atmosphere.  Between  the  sky 
and  the  earth  hung  a  cloud  of  smoke. 

I  knew  that  Alexix's  uncle  was  a  miner  at  Varses, 
but  I  did  not  know  whether  he  lived  in  the  town 
itself  or  outside.  I  simply  knew  that  he  worked 
in  a  mine  called  the  "  Truyere." 

236 


MEETING  OLD  FRIENDS       287 

Upon  entering  the  town  I  asked  where  this  mine 
was  situated,  and  I  was  directed  to  the  left  bank 
of  the  river  Divonne,  in  a  little  dale,  traversed  by 
a  ravine,  after  which  the  mine  had  been  named. 
This  dale  is  as  unattractive-  as  the  town. 

At  the  office  they  told  us  where  Uncle  Gaspard, 
Alexix's  uncle,  lived.  It  was  in  a  winding  street, 
which  led  from  the  hill  to  the  river,  at  a  little  dis- 
tance from  the  mine. 

When  we  reached  the  house,  a  woman  who  was 
leaning  up  against  the  door  talking  to  two  or  three 
neighbors  told  me  that  Gaspard,  the  miner,  would 
not  be  back  until  six  o'clock. 

"What  do  you  want  of  him?"  she  asked. 

"  I  want  to  see  Alexix,  his  nephew." 

"  Oh,  you're  Remi? "  she  said.  "  Alexix  has 
spoken  of  you.  He's  been  expecting  you.  Who's 
that  boy?  "  She  pointed  to  Mattia. 

"  He's  my  friend." 

This  woman  was  Alexix's  aunt.  I  thought  she 
would  ask  us  to  go  in  and  rest,  for  we  were  very 
dusty  and  tired,  but  she  simply  repeated  that  if  I 
would  return  at  six  o'clock  I  could  see  Alexix,  who 
was  then  at  the  mine.  I  had  not  the  heart  to  ask 
for  what  was  not  offered.  I  thanked  her  and  went 
into  the  town  to  find  a  baker,  to  get  something  to 
eat.  I  was  ashamed  of  this  reception,  for  I  felt 
that  Mattia  would  wonder  what  it  meant.  Why 
should  we  have  tramped  so  many  miles  for  this. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  Mattia  would  have  a  poor 
idea  of  my  friends,  and  that  when  I  should  speak 


288 NOBODY'S  BOY 

to  him  of  Lise  he  would  not  listen  to  me  with  the 
same  interest.  And  I  wanted  him  very  much  to 
like  Lise.  The  cold  welcome  that  the  aunt  had 
given  us  did  not  encourage  me  to  return  to  the 
house,  so  at  a  little  before  six  o'clock,  Mattia,  Capi, 
and  I  went  to  the  entrance  of  the  mine  to  wait  for 
Alexix. 

We  had  been  told  by  which  gallery  the  miners 
would  come  out,  and  a  little  after  six  we  began  to 
see  in  the  dark  shadows  of  the  gallery  some  tiny 
lights  which  gradually  became  larger.  The  min- 
ers, with  lamp  in  hand,  were  coming  up  into  the 
day,  their  work  finished.  They  came  on  slowly, 
with  heavy  gait,  as  though  they  suffered  in  the 
knees.  I  understood  how  this  was  later,  when  I 
myself  had  gone  over  the  staircases  and  ladders 
which  led  to  the  last  level.  Their  faces  were  as 
black  as  chimney  sweeps;  their  clothes  and  hats 
covered  with  coal  dust.  Each  man  entered  the 
lamplighter's  cabin  and  hung  up  his  lamp  on  a 
nail. 

Although  keeping  a  careful  lookout,  I  did  not  see 
Alexix  until  he  had  rushed  up  to  me.  I  should 
have  let  him  pass  without  recognizing  him.  It  was 
hard  to  recognize  in  this  boy,  black  from  head  to 
foot,  the  chum  who  had  raced  with  me  down  the 
garden  paths  in  his  clean  shirt,  turned  up  to  the 
elbows,  and  his  collar  thrown  open,  showing  his 
white  skin. 

"  It's  Renii,"  he  cried,  turning  to  a  man  of  about 
forty  years,  who  walked  near  him,  and  who  had  a 


MEETING  OLD  FRIENDS       289 

kind,  frank  face  like  M.  Acquin.  This  was  not 
surprising,  considering  that  they  were  brothers. 
I  knew  that  this  was  Uncle  Gaspard. 

"  We've  been  expecting  you  a  long  time,"  he  said, 
smiling. 

"  The  road  is  long  from  Paris  to  Varses,"  I  said, 
smiling  back. 

"  And  your  legs  are  short,"  he  retorted,  laughing. 

Capi,  happy  at  seeing  Alexix,  expressed  his  joy 
by  tugging  at  the  leg  of  his  trousers  with  all  his 
might.  During  this  time  I  explained  to  Uncle 
Gaspard  that  Mattia  was  my  friend  and  partner, 
and  that  he  played  the  cornet  better  than  any  one. 

"And  there's  Monsieur  Capi,"  said  Uncle  Gas- 
pard; "you'll  be  rested  to-morrow,  so  you  can  en- 
tertain us,  for  it's  Sunday.  Alexix  says  that  that 
dog  is  cleverer  than  a  schoolmaster  and  a  comedian 
combined." 

As  much  as  I  felt  ill  at  ease  with  the  aunt,  so  I 
felt  at  ease  with  Uncle  Gaspard. 

"  Now,  you  two  boys  talk  together,"  he  said 
cheerily.  "  I  am  sure  that  you  have  a  lot  to  say  to 
each  other.  I'm  going  to  have  a  chat  with  this 
young  man  who  plays  the  cornet  so  well." 

Alexix  wanted  to  know  about  my  journey,  and  I 
wanted  to  know  about  his  work;  we  were  so  busy 
questioning  each  other  that  neither  of  us  waited 
for  a  reply. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  house,  Uncle  Gaspard 
invited  us  to  supper;  never  did  an  invitation  give 
me  such  pleasure,  for  I  had  wondered  as  we  walked 


240 NOBODY'S  BOY 

along  if  we  should  have  to  part  at  the  door,  the 
aunt's  welcome  not  having  given  us  much  hope. 

"  Here's  Remi  and  his  friend,"  said  the  father, 
entering  the  house. 

We  sat  down  to  supper.  The  meal  did  not  last 
long,  for  the  aunt,  who  was  a  gossiper,  was  only 
serving  delicatessen  that  evening.  The  hard-work- 
ing miner  ate  his  delicatessen  supper  without  a 
word  of  complaint.  He  was  an  easy  going  man 
who,  above  all,  liked  peace :  He  never  complained ; 
if  he  had  a  remark  to  pass  it  was  said  in  a  quiet, 
gentle  way.  The  supper  was  soon  over. 

Uncle  Gaspard  told  me  that  I  could  sleep  with 
Alexix  that  night,  and  told  Mattia  that  if  he  would 
go  with  him  into  the  bakehouse  he  would  make  him 
up  a  bed  there. 

That  evening  and  the  greater  part  of  the  night 
Alexix  and  I  spent  talking. 

Everything  that  Alexix  told  me  excited  me 
strangely.  I  had  always  wanted  to  go  down  in  a 
mine,  but  when  I  spoke  of  it  the  next  day  to  Uncle 
Gaspard  he  told  me  that  he  could  not  possibly  take 
me  down  as  only  those  who  worked  in  the  colliery 
were  permitted  to  enter. 

"  If  you  want  to  be  a  miner,"  he  said,  "  it  will  be 
easy.  It's  not  worse  than  any  other  job.  It's 
better  than  being  a  singer  on  the  streets.  You  can 
stay  here  with  Alexix.  We'll  get  a  job  for  Mattia 
also,  but  not  in  playing  the  cornet,  oh  no." 

I  had  no  intention  of  staying  at  Varses;  there 
was  something  else  I  had  set  myself  to  do.  I  was 


MEETING  OLD  FRIENDS       241 

about  to  leave  the  town  without  my  curiosity  being 
satisfied  when  circumstances  came  about  in  which 
I  learned,  in  all  their  horror,  the  dangers  to  which 
the  miners  are  exposed. 

On  the  day  that  I  was  to  leave  Varses  a  large 
block  of  coal  fell  on  Alexix's  hand  and  almost 
crushed  his  finger.  For  several  days  he  was 
obliged  to  give  the  hand  complete  rest.  Uncle  Gas- 
pard  was  in  despair,  for  now  he  had  no  one  to  push 
his  car  and  he  was  afraid  that  he  also  would  be 
obliged  to  stay  at  home,  and  he  could  ill  afford  to 
do  this. 

"  Why  can't  I  take  his  place?  "  I  asked,  when  he 
returned  home  after  hunting  in  vain  for  a  boy. 

"  I  was  afraid  the  car  would  be  too  heavy  for 
you,  my  boy,"  he  said,  "  but  if  you'd  be  willing  to 
try,  you'd  help  me  a  mighty  lot.  It  is  hard  to  find 
a  boy  for  a  few  days  only." 

"  And  while  you  are  down  in  the  mine  I'll  go  off 
with  Capi  and  earn  the  rest  of  the  money  for  the 
cow,"  cried  Mattia. 

The  three  months  that  we  had  lived  together  in 
the  open  air  had  completely  changed  Mattia.  He 
was  no  longer  the  poor,  pale  boy  whom  I  had  found 
leaning  up  against  the  church;  much  less  was  he 
the  monster  whom  I  had  seen  for  the  first  time  in 
Garofoli's  attic,  looking  after  the  soup,  and  from 
time  to  time  clasping  his  hands  over  his  poor  ach- 
ing head.  Mattia  never  had  a  headache  now.  He 
was  never  unhappy,  neither  was  he  thin  or  sad. 
The  beautiful  sun  and  the  fresh  air  had  given  him 


242 NOBODY'S  BOY 

health  and  spirits.  On  our  tramps  he  was  always 
laughing  and  in  a  good  humor,  seeing  the  best  side 
of  everything,  amused  at  anything,  happy  at  noth- 
ing. How  lonely  I  would  have  been  without  him ! 

We  were  so  utterly  different  in  character,  per- 
haps that  was  why  we  got  on  so  well  together.  He 
had  a  sweet,  sunny  disposition,  a  little  careless, 
and  with  a  delightful  way  of  overcoming  difficul- 
ties. We  might  well  have  quarreled  when  I  was 
teaching  him  to  read  and  giving  his  lessons  in  mu- 
sic, for  I  had  not  the  patience  of  a  schoolmaster. 
I  was  often  unjust  to  him,  but  never  once  did  he 
show  signs  of  anger. 

It  was  understood  that  while  I  was  down  in  the 
mine  Mattia  and  Capi  were  to  go  off  into  the  sub- 
urbs and  give  "  musical  and  dramatic  perform- 
ances" and  thereby  increase  our  fortune.  Capi, 
to  whom  I  explained  this  arrangement,  appeared 
to  understand  and  accordingly  barked  approval. 

The  next  day,  following  close  in  Uncle  Gaspard's 
footsteps,  I  went  down  into  the  deep,  dark  mine. 
He  bade  me  be  very  cautious,  but  there  was  no  need 
for  his  warning.  It  is  not  without  a  certain  fear 
and  anxiety  that  one  leaves  the  light  of  day  to  enter 
into  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  When  far  down  the 
gallery  I  instinctively  looked  back,  but  the  day- 
light at  the  end  of  the  long  black  tube  looked  like 
a  white  globe, —  like  the  moon  in  a  dark,  starless 
sky.  Soon  the  big,  black  pit  yawned  before  us. 
Down  below  I  could  see  the  swaying  lamps  of  other 
miners  as  they  descended  the  ladder.  We  reached 


MEETING  OLD  FRIENDS       243 

the  stall  where  Uncle  Gaspard  worked  on  the  sec- 
ond level.  All  those  employed  in  pushing  the  cars 
were  young  boys,  with  the  exception  of  one  whom 
they  called  Professor.  He  wTas  an  old  man  who, 
in  his  younger  days  had  worked  as  a  carpenter  in 
the  mine  but  through  an  accident,  which  had 
crushed  his  fingers,  had  been  obliged  to  give  up  his 
trade.  I  was  soon  to  learn  what  it  meant  to  be  a 
miner. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

IMPRISONED  IN  A  MINE 

A  FEW  days  later,  while  pushing  my  car  along 
the  rails,  I  heard  a  terrible  roaring.  The 
noise  came  from  all  sides.  My  first  feeling  was 
one  of  terror  and  I  thought  only  of  saving  myself, 
but  I  had  so  often  been  laughed  at  for  my  fears 
that  shame  made  me  stay.  I  wondered  if  it  could 
be  an  explosion.  Suddenly,  hundreds  of  rats 
raced  past  me,  fleeing  like  a  regiment  of  cavalry. 
Then  I  heard  a  strange  sound  against  the  earth 
and  the  walls  of  the  gallery,  and  the  noise  of  run- 
ning water.  I  raced  back  to  Uncle  Gaspard. 

"  Water's  coming  into  the  mine !  "  I  cried. 

"  Don't  be  silly." 

"Oh,  listen!" 

There  was  something  in  my  manner  that  forced 
Uncle  Gaspard  to  stop  his  work  and  listen.  The 
noise  was  now  louder  and  more  sinister. 

"  Race  for  your  life.  The  mine's  flooded !  "  he 
shouted. 

"Professor!  Professor!"  I  screamed. 

We  rushed ;  down  the  gallery.  The  old  man 
joined  us.  The  water  was  rising  rapidly. 

"You  go  first,"  said  the  old  man  when  we 
reached  the  ladder. 

244 


IMPRISONED  IN  A  MINE       245 

We  were  not  in  a  position  to  show  politeness. 
Uncle  Gaspard  went  first,  I  followed,  then  came 
the  professor.  Before  we  had  reached  the  top  of 
the  ladder  a  rush  of  water  fell,  extinguishing  our 
lamps. 

"  Hold  on,"  cried  Uncle  Gaspard. 

We  clung  to  the  rungs.  But  some  men  who 
were  below  us  were  thrown  off.  The  fall  of  water 
had  turned  into  a  veritable  avalanche. 

We  were  on  the  first  landing.  Water  was  here 
also.  We  had  no  lights,  for  our  lamps  had  been 
put  out. 

"  I'm  afraid  we  are  lost,"  said  the  professor 
quietly ;  "  say  your  prayers,  my  boy." 

At  this  moment  seven  or  eight  miners  with  lamps 
came  running  in  our  direction,  trying  to  reach  the 
ladder.  The  water  was  now  rushing  through  the 
mine  in  a  regular  torrent,  dragging  in  its  mad 
course  pieces  of  wood,  whirling  them  round  like 
feathers. 

"  We  must  make  for  an  airshaft,  boys,"  said  the 
professor.  "  That  is  the  only  place  where  we 
might  find  refuge.  Give  me  a  lamp." 

Usually  no  one  took  any  notice  of  the  old  man 
when  he  spoke,  unless  it  was  to  make  fun  of  him, 
but  the  strongest  man  there  had  lost  his  nerve  and 
it  was  the  voice  of  the  old  man,  whom  they  had 
mocked  so  often,  that  they  were  now  ready  to  obey. 
A  lamp  was  handed  to  him.  He  seized  it  and 
dragged  me  along  with  him,  taking  the  lead.  He, 
more  than  any  man,  knew  every  nook  and  corner 


246 NOBODY'S  BOY 

of  the  mine.  The  water  was  up  to  my  waist.  The 
professor  led  us  to  the  nearest  airshaft.  Two 
miners  refused  to  enter,  saying  that  we  were  throw- 
ing ourselves  into  a  blind  alley.  They  continued 
along  the  gallery  and  we  never  saw  them  again. 

Then  came  a  deafening  noise.  A  rush  of  water, 
a  splintering  of  wood,  explosions  of  compressed  air, 
a  dreadful  roaring  which  terrified  us. 

"  It's  the  deluge,"  shrieked  one. 

"  The  end  of  the  world!  " 

"  Oh,  God,  have  mercy  on  us." 

Hearing  the  men  shrieking  their  cries  of  de- 
spair, the  professor  said  calmly,  but  in  a  voice  to 
which  all  listened. 

"  Courage,  boys,  now  as  we  are  going  to  stay 
here  for  a  while  we  must  get  to  work.  We  can't 
stay  long,  huddled  together  like  this.  Let  us  scoop 
out  a  hollow  in  the  shale  so  as  to  have  a  place  to 
rest  upon." 

His  words  calmed  the  men.  With  hands  and 
lauiphooks  they  began  to  dig  into  the  soil.  The 
task  was  difficult,  for  the  airshaft  in  which  we  had 
taken  refuge  was  on  a  considerable  slope  and  very 
slippery.  And  we  knew  that  it  meant  death  if  we 
made  a  false  step.  A  resting  place  was  made,  and 
we  were  able  to  stop  and  take  note  of  each  other. 
We  were  seven:  the  professor,  Uncle  Gaspard, 
three  miners,  Pages,  Comperou  and  Bergounhoux, 
and  a  car  pusher  named  Carrory,  and  myself. 

The  noise  in  the  mine  continued  with  the  same 
violence;  there  are  no  words  with  which  to  de- 


scribe  the  horrible  uproar.  It  seemed  to  us  that 
our  last  hour  had  come.  Mad  with  fear,  we  gazed 
at  one  another,  questioningly. 

"  The  evil  genius  of  the  mine's  taking  his  re- 
venge," cried  one. 

"  It's  a  hole  broke  through  from  the  river  above," 
I  ventured  to  say. 

The  professor  said  nothing.  He  merely  shrugged 
his  shoulder,  as  though  he  could  have  argued  out 
the  matter  in  full  day,  under  the  shade  of  a  mul- 
berry tree,  eating  an  onion. 

"  It's  all  folly  about  the  genius  of  the  mine,"  he 
said  at  last.  "  The  mine  is  flooded,  that's  a  sure 
thing.  But  what  has  caused  the  flood,  we  down 
here  can't  tell.  .  .  ." 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  know  what  it  is,  shut  up," 
cried  the  men. 

Now  that  we  were  dry  and  the  water  was  not 
touching  us,  no  one  wanted  to  listen  to  the  old  man. 
The  authority  which  his  coolness  in  danger  had 
gained  for  him  was  already  lost. 

"  We  shan't  die  from  drowning,"  he  said  at  last, 
quietly ;  "  look  at  the  flame  in  your  lamps,  how 
short  it  is  now." 

"  Don't  be  a  wizard,  what  do  you  mean?  Speak 
out." 

"  I  am  not  trying  to  be  a  wizard,  but  we  shan't 
be  drowned.  We  are  in  a  bell  of  air,  and  it  is  this 
compressed  air  which  stops  the  water  from  rising. 
This  airshaft,  without  an  outlet,  is  doing  for  us 
what  the  diving  bell  does  for  the  diver.  The  air 


248 NOBODY'S  BOY 

has  accumulated  in  the  shaft  and  now  resists  the 
water,  which  ebbs  back." 

"  It  is  the  foul  air  that  we  have  to  fear.  .  .  .  The 
water  is  not  rising  a  foot  now;  the  mine  must  be 
full.  .  .  ." 

"Where's  Marius?"  cried  Pages,  thinking  of  his 
only  son,  who  worked  on  the  third  level. 

"  Oh,  Marius !  Marius,"  he  shrieked. 

There  was  no  reply,  not  even  an  echo.  His  voice 
did  not  go  beyond  our  "  bell." 

Was  Marius  saved?  One  hundred  and  fifty  men 
drowned!  That  would  be  too  horrible.  One  hun- 
dred and  fifty  men,  at  least,  had  gone  down  into 
the  mine,  how  many  had  been  able  to  get  out  by 
the  shafts,  or  had  found  a  refuge  like  ourselves? 

There  was  now  utter  silence  in  the  mine.  At 
our  feet  the  water  was  quite  still,  not  a  ripple,  not 
a  gurgle.  The  mine  was  full.  This  heavy  silence, 
impenetrable  and  deathly,  was  more  stupefying 
than  the  frightful  uproar  that  we  had  heard  when 
the  water  first  rushed  in.  We  were  in  a  tomb, 
buried  alive,  more  than  a  hundred  feet  under 
ground.  We  all  seemed  to  feel  the  awfulness  of 
our  situation.  Even  the  professor  seemed  crushed 
down.  Suddenly,  I  felt  some  warm  drops  fall  on 
my  hand.  It  was  Carrory.  ...  He  was  crying,  si- 
lently. Then  came  a  voice,  shrieking: 

"Marius!  my  boy,  Marius!" 

The  air  was  heavy  to  breathe;  I  felt  suffocated; 
there  was  a  buzzing  in  my  ears.  I  was  afraid, 
afraid  of  the  water,  the  darkness,  and  death.  The 


IMPRISONED  IN  A  MINE       249 

silence  oppressed  me,  the  uneven,  jagged  walls  of 
our  place  of  refuge  seemed  as  though  they  would 
fall  and  crush  me  beneath  their  weight.  Should 
I  never  see  Lise  again,  and  Arthur,  and  Mrs.  Mil- 
ligan,  and  dear  old  Mattia,  Would  they  be  able 
to  make  little  Lise  understand  that  I  was  dead,  and 
that  I  could  not  bring  her  news  from  her  brothers 
and  sister!  And  Mother  Barberin,  poor  Mother 
Barberin!  .  .  . 

"  In  my  opinion,  they  are  not  trying  to  rescue 
us,"  said  Uncle  Gaspard,  breaking  the  silence  at 
last.  "We  can't  hear  a  sound." 

"  How  can  you  think  that  of  your  comrades?  " 
cried  the  professor  hotly.  "  You  know  well 
enough  that  in  every  mine  accident  the  miners  have 
never  deserted  one  another,  and  that  twenty  men, 
one  hundred  men,  would  sooner  be  killed  than 
leave  a  comrade  without  assistance.  You  know 
that  well  enough." 

"  That  is  true,"  murmured  Uncle  Gaspard. 

"  Make  no  error,  they  are  trying  their  hardest  to 
reach  us.  They  have  two  ways,  .  .  .  one  is  to 
bore  a  tunnel  to  us  down  here,  the  other  is  to  drain 
off  the  water." 

The  men  began  a  vague  discussion  as  to  how 
long  it  would  take  to  accomplish  this  task.  All 
realized  that  we  should  have  to  remain  at  least 
eight  days  in  our  tomb.  Eight  days!  I  had 
heard  of  miners  being  imprisoned  for  twenty-four 
days,  but  that  was  in  a  story  and  this  was  reality. 
When  I  was  able  to  fully  grasp  what  this  meant, 


250 NOBODY'S  BOY 

I  paid  no  heed  to  the  talk  around  me.  I  was 
stunned. 

Again  there  was  silence.  All  were  plunged  in 
thought.  How  long  we  remained  so  I  cannot  tell, 
but  suddenly  there  was  a  cry : 

"  The  pumps  are  at  work !  " 

This  was  said  with  one  voice,  for  the  sounds  that 
had  just  reached  our  ears  had  seemed  to  touch  us 
by  an  electric  current  and  we  all  rose  up.  We 
should  be  saved! 

Carrory  took  my  hand  and  squeezed  it. 

"  You're  a  good  boy,"  he  said. 

"  No,  you  are,"  I  replied. 

But  he  insisted  energetically  that  I  was  a  good 
boy.  His  manner  was  as  though  he  were  intoxi- 
cated. And  so  he  was;  he  was  intoxicated  with 
hope.  But  before  we  were  to  see  the  beautiful  sun 
again  and  hear  the  birds  in  the  trees,  we  were  to 
pass  through  long,  cruel  days  of  agony,  and  wonder 
in  anguish  if  we  should  ever  see  the  light  of  day 
again. 

We  were  all  very  thirsty.  Pages  wanted  to  go 
down  and  get  some  water,  but  the  professor  ad- 
vised him  to  stay  where  he  was.  He  feared  that 
the  debris  which  we  had  piled  up  would  give  way 
beneath  his  weight  and  that  he  would  fall  into  the 
water. 

"  Kemi  is  lighter,  give  him  a  boot,  and  he  can 
go  down  and  get  water  for  us  all,"  he  said. 

Carrory's  boot  was  handed  to  me,  and  I  pre- 
pared to  slip  down  the  bank. 


IMPRISONED  IN  A  MINE       251 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  the  professor;  "let  me 
give  you  a  hand." 

"  Oh,  but  it's  all  right,  professor,"  I  replied ;  "  if 
I  fall  in  I  can  swim." 

"  Do  as  I  tell  you,"  he  insisted ;  "  take  my  hand." 

In  his  effort  to  help  me  he  either  miscalculated 
his  step,  or  the  coal  gave  way  beneath  him,  for  he 
slid  over  the  inclined  plane  and  fell  head  first  into 
the  black  waters.  The  lamp,  which  he  held  to 
light  me,  rolled  after  him  and  disappeared  also. 
Instantly  we  were  plunged  in  darkness,  for  we 
were  burning  only  one  light, —  there  was  a  simul- 
taneous cry  from  every  man.  Fortunately,  I  was 
already  in  position  to  get  to  the  water.  Letting 
myself  slide  down  on  my  back,  I  slipped  into  the 
water  after  the  old  man. 

In  my  wanderings  with  Vitalis  I  had  learned 
to  swim  and  to  dive.  I  was  as  much  at  ease  in  the 
water  as  on  land,  but  how  could  I  direct  my  course 
in  this  black  hole?  I  had  not  thought  of  that  when 
I  let  myself  slip ;  I  only  thought  that  the  old  man 
would  be  drowned.  Where  should  I  look?  On 
which  side  should  I  swim?  I  was  wondering,  when 
I  felt  a  firm  hand  seize  my  shoulder.  I  was 
dragged  beneath  the  water.  Kicking  out  my  foot 
sharply,  I  rose  to  the  surface.  The  hand  was  still 
grasping  my  shoulder. 

"  Hold  on,  professor,"  I  cried ;  "  keep  your  head 
up  and  we're  saved !  " 

Saved!  neither  one  nor  the  other  was  saved. 
For  I  did  not  know  which  way  to  swim. 


252 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  Speak  out,  you  fellows ! "  I  cried. 

"  Remi,  where  are  you?  " 

It  was  Uncle  Gaspard's  voice;  it  came  from  the 
left. 

"Light  the  lamp!" 

There  was  instantly  a  light.  I  had  only  to 
stretch  out  my  hand  to  touch  the  bank.  With  one 
hand  I  clutched  at  a  block  of  coal  and  drew  up  the 
old  man.  It  was  high  time,  for  he  had  already 
swallowed  a  great  deal  of  water  and  was  partly 
unconscious.  I  kept  his  head  well  above  water 
and  he  soon  came  round.  Our  companions  took 
hold  of  him  and  pulled  him  up  while  I  hoisted  him 
from  behind.  I  clambered  up  in  my  turn. 

After  this  disagreeable  accident  which,  for  the 
moment,  had  caused  us  some  distraction,  we  again 
fell  into  fits  of  depression  and  despair,  and  with 
them  came  thoughts  of  approaching  death.  I  be- 
came very  drowsy ;  the  place  was  not  favorable  for 
sleep;  I  could  easily  have  rolled  into  the  water. 
Then  the  professor,  seeing  the  danger  I  ran,  took 
my  head  upon  his  chest  and  put  his  arm  around 
my  body.  He  did  not  hold  me  very  tight,  but 
enough  to  keep  me  from  falling,  and  I  laid  there 
like  a  child  on  his  mother's  knee.  When  I  moved, 
half  awake,  he  merely  changed  the  position  of  his 
arm  that  had  grown  stiff,  then  sat  motionless  again. 

"  Sleep,  little  chap,"  he  whispered,  leaning  over 
me ;  "  don't  be  afraid.  I've  got  you,  Remi." 

And  I  slept  without  fear,  for  I  knew  very  well 
he  would  not  let  go  of  me. 


IMPRISONED  IN  A  MINE       258 

We  had  no  idea  of  time.  We  did  not  know  if 
we  had  been  there  two  days  or  six  days.  Opinions 
differed.  We  spoke  no  more  of  our  deliverance. 
Death  was  in  our  hearts. 

"  Say  what  you  like,  professor,"  cried  Bergoun- 
houx ;  "  you  have  calculated  how  long  it  will  take 
them  to  pump  out  the  water,  but  they'll  never  be 
in  time  to  save  us.  We  shall  die  of  hunger  or  suf- 
focation. .  .  ." 

"  Have  patience,"  answered  the  professor.  "  I 
know  how  long  we  can  live  without  food  and  I  have 
made  my  calculations.  They  will  do  it  in  time." 

At  this  moment  big  Comperou  burst  into  sobs. 

"  The  good  Lord  is  punishing  me,"  he  cried, 
"  and  I  repent !  I  repent !  If  I  get  out  of  here  I 
swear  to  atone  for  the  wrong  I  have  done,  and  if 
I  don't  get  out  you  boys  will  make  amends  for  me. 
You  know  Rouquette,  who  was  sentenced  for  five 
years  for  stealing  a  watch  from  Mother  Vidal?  .  .  . 
I  was  the  thief !  I  took  it !  It's  under  my  bed  now. 
...  Oh  ..." 

"  Throw  him  in  the  water,"  cried  both  Pages  and 
Bergounhoux. 

"  Do  you  want  to  appear,  then,  before  the  Lord 
with  a  crime  on  your  conscience?  "  cried  the  pro- 
fessor ;  "  let  him  repent !  " 

"  I  repent !  I  repent,"  wailed  Comperou,  more 
feebly  than  a  child,  in  spite  of  his  great  strength. 

"  To  the  water !  To  the  water !  "  cried  Pages  and 
Bergounhoux,  trying  to  get  at  the  sinner,  who  was 
crouching  behind  the  professor. 


254 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  If  you  want  to  throw  him  in  the  water,  you'll 
throw  me  with  him !  " 

"No!  No!" 

Finally,  they  said  they  would  not  push  him  in 
the  water,  but  upon  one  condition;  he  was  to  be 
left  in  a  corner  and  no  one  was  to  speak  to  him 
or  to  pay  any  attention  to  him. 

"  Yes,  that's  what  he  deserves,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor. "  That's  only  fair." 

After  the  professor's  words,  which  seemed  like  a 
judgment  condemning  Comperou,  we  all  huddled 
together  and  got  as  far  away  from  him  as  possible, 
leaving  a  space  between  us  and  the  unfortunate 
man.  For  several  hours,  I  should  think,  he  sat 
there,  grief  stricken,  his  lips  moving  every  now 
and  again,  to  say: 

"  I  repent !     I  repent !  " 

And  then  Pages  and  Bergounhoux  would  cry 
out: 

"  It's  too  late !  It's  too  late !  You  repent  be- 
cause you're  afraid  now ;  you  should  have  repented 
six  months  ago,  a  year  ago." 

He  gasped  painfully,  but  still  repeated : 

"  I  repent !     I  repent ! " 

He  was  in  a  high  fever;  all  his  body  shook  and 
his  teeth  were  chattering. 

"  I'm  thirsty,"  tie  said;  "  give  me  the  boot." 

There  was  no  more  water  in  the  boot.  I  got  up 
to  go  and  fetch  some,  but  Pages,  who  had  seen  me, 
called  to  me  to  stop,  and  at  the  same  moment  Uncle 
Gaspard  pulled  me  by  the  arm. 


IMPRISONED  IN  A  MINE       255 

"  We  swore  we  would  pay  no  attention  to  him," 
he  said. 

For  some  minutes  Comperou  repeated  that  he 
was  thirsty;  seeing  that  we  would  not  give  him 
anything  to  drink,  he  rose  up  to  go  to  the  water 
himself. 

"  He'll  drag  down  the  rubbish !  "  cried  Pages. 

"Let  him  at  least  have  his  freedom,"  said  the 
professor. 

He  had  seen  me  go  down  by  letting  myself  slide 
on  my  back.  He  wanted  to  do  the  same,  but  I  was 
light,  whilst  he  was  heavy.  Scarcely  was  he  on 
his  back  than  the  coal  gave  way  beneath  him  and, 
with  his  legs  stretched  out  and  his  arms  striking 
into  space,  he  slipped  into  the  black  hole.  The 
water  splashed  up  to  where  we  were.  I  leaned 
forward  ready  to  go  down,  but  Uncle  Gaspard  and 
the  professor  each  grasped  me  by  the  arm. 

Half  dead,  and  trembling  with  horror,  I  drew 
myself  back. 

Time  passed.  The  professor  was  the  only  one 
who  could  speak  with  courage.  But  our  depres- 
sion finally  made  his  spirits  droop.  Our  hunger 
had  become  so  great  that  we  ate  the  rotten  wood 
about  us.  Carrory,  who  was  like  an  animal,  was 
the  most  famished  of  all ;  he  had  cut  up  his  other 
boot  and  was  continually  chewing  the  pieces  of 
leather.  Seeing  what  hunger  had  led  us  to,  I  must 
confess  that  I  began  to  have  terrible  fears.  Vi- 
talis  had  often  told  me  tales  of  men  who  had  been 
shipwrecked.  In  one  story,  a  crew  who  had  been 


256 NOBODY'S  BOY 

shipwrecked  on  a  desert  island  where  there  was 
nothing  to  eat,  had  eaten  the  ship's  boy.  Seeing 
my  companions  in  such  a  famished  state  I  won- 
dered if  that  fate  was  to  be  mine.  I  knew  that  the 
professor  and  Uncle  Gaspard  would  never  eat  me, 
but  of  Pages,  Bergounhoux,  and  Carrory,  especially 
Carrory  with  his  great  white  teeth  which  he  dug 
into  the  leather  of  his  boot,  I  was  not  quite  so  sure. 

Once,  when  I  was  half  asleep,  I  had  been  sur- 
prised to  hear  the  professor  speak  in  almost  a  whis- 
per, as  though  he  was  dreaming.  He  was  talking 
of  the  clouds,  the  wind,  and  the  sun.  Then  Pages 
and  Bergounhoux  began  to  chatter  with  him  in  a 
foolish  manner.  Neither  waited  for  the  other  to 
reply.  Uncle  Gaspard  seemed  hardly  to  notice 
how  foolish  they  were.  Were  they  all  gone  mad? 
What  wras  to  be  done? 

Suddenly,  I  thought  I  would  light  a  lamp.  To 
economize  we  had  decided  only  to  have  a  light 
when  it  was  absolutely  necessary.  When  they 
saw  the  light  they  apparently  regained  their  senses. 
I  went  to  get  some  water  for  them.  The  waters 
were  going  down! 

After  a  time  they  began  to  talk  strangely  again. 
My  own  thoughts  were  vague  and  wild,  and  for 
long  hours  and  perhaps  days  we  laid  there  chat- 
tering to  one  another  foolishly.  After  a  time  we 
became  quieter  and  Bergounhoux  said  that  before 
dying  we  should  put  down  our  last  wishes.  We 
lit  a  lamp  and  Bergounhoux  wrote  for  us  all,  and 
we  each  signed  the  paper.  I  gave  my  dog  and 


harp  to  Mattia  and  I  expressed  a  wish  for  Alexix 
to  go  to  Lise  and  kiss  her  for  me,  and  give  her  the 
dried  rose  that  was  in  my  vest  pocket.  Dear  little 
Lise.  .  .  . 

After  some  time,  I  slipped  down  the  bank  again, 
and  saw  that  the  waters  were  lowering  consider- 
ably. I  hurried  back  to  my  companions  and  told 
them  that  now  I  could  swim  to  the  ladders  and 
tell  our  rescuers  in  what  part  of  the  mine  we  had 
taken  refuge.  The  professor  forbade  me  to  go, 
but  I  insisted. 

"  Go  on,  Remi,  and  I'll  give  you  my  watch,"  cried 
Uncle  Gaspard. 

The  professor  thought  for  a  moment,  then  took 
my  hand. 

"  Do  as  you  think,  boy,"  he  said ;  "  you  have  a 
heart.  I  think  that  you  are  attempting  the  im- 
possible, but  it  is  not  the  first  time  that  what  was 
thought  impossible  has  been  successful.  Kiss  us, 
boy." 

I  kissed  the  professor  and  Uncle  Gaspard  and 
then,  having  thrown  off  my  clothes,  I  went  into  the 
water. 

"  You  keep  shouting  all  the  while,"  I  said,  be- 
fore taking  the  plunge ;  "  your  voices  will  guide 
me." 

I  wondered  if  the  space  under  the  roof  of  the 
gallery  was  big  enough  for  me  to  move  freely. 
That  was  the  question.  After  some  strokes  I 
found  that  I  could  swim  if  I  went  gently.  I  knew 
that  there  was  a  meeting  of  galleries  not  far  away, 


258 NOBODY'S  BOY 

but  I  had  to  be  cautious,  for  if  I  made  a  mistake  in 
the  course  I  should  lose  my  way.  The  roof  and 
the  walls  of  the  gallery  were  not  enough  to  guide 
me;  on  the  ground  there  was  a  surer  guide,  the 
rails.  If  I  followed  them  I  should  be  sure  to  find 
the  ladders.  Prom  time  to  time  I  let  my  feet  go 
down  and,  having  touched  the  iron  rails,  I  rose  up 
again,  gently.  With  the  voices  of  my  companions 
behind  me  and  the  rails  under  my  feet,  I  was  not 
lost.  As  the  voices  became  less  distinct,  the  noise 
of  the  pumps  increased.  I  was  advancing.  Thank 
God,  I  should  soon  see  the  light  of  day! 

Going  straight  down  the  middle  of  the  gallery, 
I  had  only  to  turn  to  the  right  to  touch  the  rail. 
I  went  on  a  little  farther,  then  dived  again  to  touch 
the  rail.  It  was  not  there!  I  went  from  side  to 
side  of  the  gallery,  but  there  was  no  rail! 

I  had  made  a  mistake. 

The  voices  of  my  companions  only  reached  me  in 
the  faintest  murmur.  I  took  in  a  deep  breath,  then 
plunged  again  but  with  no  more  success.  There 
were  no  rails! 

I  had  taken  the  wrong  level ;  without  knowing,  I 
must  have  turned  back.  But  how  was  it  the  others 
wrere  not  shouting.  If  they  were  I  could  not  hear 
them.  I  was  distracted,  for  I  did  not  know  which 
way  to  turn  in  this  cold,  black  water. 

Then,  suddenly,  I  heard  the  sounds  of  voices 
again  and  I  knew  which  way  to  turn.  After  hav- 
ing taken  a  dozen  strokes  back,  I  turned  to  the 
right,  then  to  the  left,  but  only  found  the  walls. 


IMPRISONED  IN  A  MINE       259 

Where  were  the  rails?  I  was  sure  now  that  I  was 
in  the  right  level,  then  I  suddenly  realized  that  the 
railroad  had  been  carried  away  by  the  rush  of 
waters,  and  that  I  had  no  guide.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances it  was  impossible  for  me  to  carry  out 
my  plan,  and  I  was  forced  to  turn  back. 

I  swam  back  quickly  to  our  place  of  refuge,  the 
voices  guiding  me.  As  I  approached,  it  seemed  to 
me  that  my  companions'  voices  were  more  assured 
as  though  they  felt  stronger.  I  was  soon  at  the 
entrance  of  the  shaft !  I  hallooed  to  them. 

"  Come  back ;  come  back,"  shouted  the  professor. 

"  I  could  not  find  the  way,"  I  called  out. 

"  Never  mind,  the  tunnel  is  nearly  finished :  they 
hear  our  cries  and  we  can  hear  theirs.  We  shall 
soon  speak." 

I  climbed  quickly  up  to  our  landing  and  listened. 
We  could  hear  the  blows  from  the  picks  and  the 
cries  of  those  who  worked  for  our  freedom  came  to 
us  feebly,  but  yet  very  distinct.  After  the  first 
rush  of  joy,  I  realized  that  I  was  frozen.  As  there 
were  no  warm  clothes  to  give  me,  they  buried  me 
up  to  the  neck  in  coal  dust  and  Uncle  Gaspard  and 
the  professor  huddled  up  against  me  to  keep  me 
warm. 

We  knew  now  that  our  rescuers  would  soon 
reach  us  through  the  tunnel  and  by  the  water,  but 
these  last  hours  of  our  imprisonment  were  the 
hardest  to  bear.  The  blows  from  the  picks  con- 
tinued, and  the  pumping  had  not  stopped  for  one 
moment.  Strange,  the  nearer  we  reached  the  hour 


260 NOBODY'S  BOY 

of  our  deliverance,  the  weaker  we  grew.  I  was 
lying  in  the  coal  dust  trembling,  but  I  was  not  cold. 
We  were  unable  to  speak. 

Suddenly,  there  was  a  noise  in  the  waters  of  the 
gallery  and,  turning  my  head,  I  saw  a  great  light 
coming  towards  us.  The  engineer  was  at  the  head 
of  several  men.  He  was  the  first  to  climb  up  to 
us.  He  had  me  in  his  arms  before  I  could  say  a 
word. 

It  was  time,  for  my  heart  was  failing  me,  yet  I 
was  conscious  that  I  was  being  carried  away,  and 
I  was  wrapped  up  in  a  blanket  after  our  rescuers 
had  waded  through  the  water  in  the  gallery.  I 
closed  my  eyes;  when  I  opened  them  again  it  was 
daylight !  We  were  in  the  open  air !  At  the  same 
time  something  jumped  on  me.  It  was  Capi. 
With  a  bound  he  had  sprung  upon  me  as  I  laid  in 
the  engineer's  arms.  He  licked  my  face  again  and 
again.  Then  my  hand  was  taken ;  I  felt  a  kiss  and 
heard  a  weak  voice  murmuring :  "  Remi !  oh, 
Remi!" 

It  was  Mattia.  I  smiled  at  him,  then  I  glanced 
round. 

A  mass  of  people  were  crowded  together  in  two 
straight  rows,  leaving  a  passage  down  the  center. 
It  was  a  silent  crowd,  for  they  had  been  requested 
not  to  excite  us  by  their  cries,  but  their  looks  spoke 
for  their  lips.  In  the  first  row  I  seemed  to  see 
some  white  surplices  and  gilt  ornaments  which 
shone  in  the  sun.  They  were  the  priests,  who  had 
come  to  the  entrance  of  the  mine  to  offer  prayers 


IMPRISONED  IN  A  MINE       261 

for  our  deliverance.  When  we  were  brought  out, 
they  went  down  on  their  knees  in  the  dust. 

Twenty  arms  were  stretched  out  to  take  me,  but 
the  engineer  would  not  give  me  up.  He  carried  me 
to  the  offices,  where  beds  had  been  prepared  to 
receive  us. 

Two  days  later  I  was  walking  down  the  village 
street  followed  by  Mattia,  Alexix,  and  Capi. 
There  were  some  who  came  and  shook  me  by  the 
hands  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  and  there  were 
others  who  turned  away  their  heads.  These  were 
in  mourning,  and  they  asked  themselves  bitterly 
why  this  orphan  child  had  been  saved  when  their 
fathers  and  sons  were  still  in  the  mine,  ghastly 
corpses,  drifting  hither  and  thither  in  the  dark 
waters. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

ONCE  MORE   UPON  THE  WAY 

I  HAD  made  some  friends  in  the  mine.  Such 
terrible  experiences,  born  in  common,  unites 
one.  Uncle  Gaspard  and  the  professor,  in  par- 
ticular, had  grown  very  fond  of  me  and,  although 
the  engineer  had  not  shared  our  captivity,  he  had 
become  attached  to  me  like  one  is  to  a  child  that 
one  has  snatched  from  death.  He  invited  me  to 
his  house.  I  had  to  tell  his  daughter  all  that  had 
happened  to  us  in  the  mine. 

Every  one  wanted  to  keep  me  at  Varses.  The 
engineer  told  me  that  if  I  wished  he  would  find  me 
a  position  in  the  offices;  Uncle  Gaspard  said  he 
would  get  me  a  permanent  job  in  the  mine;  he 
seemed  to  think  it  quite  natural  that  I  should  re- 
turn to  the  colliery;  he  himself  was  soon  going 
down  again  with  that  indifference  that  men  show 
who  are  accustomed  to  brave  danger  each  day.  I 
had  no  wish  to  go  back.  A  mine  was  very  inter- 
esting, and  I  was  very  pleased  that  I  had  seen  one, 
but  I  had  not  the  slightest  desire  to  return.  I 
preferred  to  have  the  sky  over  my  head,  even  a  sky 
full  of  snow.  The  open-air  life  suited  me  better, 
and  so  I  told  them.  Every  one  was  surprised,  es- 
pecially the  professor.  Carrory,  when  he  met  me, 
called  me  a  "chicken." 

262 


ONCE  MORE  UPON  THE  WAY    263 

During  the  time  that  they  were  all  trying  to  per- 
suade me  to  stay  at  Varses,  Mattia  became  very 
preoccupied  and  thoughtful.  I  questioned  him, 
but  he  always  answered  that  nothing  was  the  mat- 
ter. It  was  not  until  I  told  him  that  we  were 
starting  off  on  our  tramps  in  three  days'  time,  that 
he  admitted  the  cause  of  his  sadness. 

"  Oh,  I  thought  that  you  would  stay  and  that  you 
would  leave  me,"  he  said. 

I  gave  him  a  good  slap,  so  as  to  teach  him  not 
to  doubt  me. 

Mattia  was  quite  able  to  look  after  himself  now. 
While  I  was  down  in  the  mine  he  had  earned  eight- 
een francs.  He  was  very  proud  when  he  handed 
me  this  large  sum,  for  with  the  hundred  and 
twenty-eight  that  we  already  had,  this  made  a  to- 
tal of  one  hundred  and  forty-six  francs.  We  only 
wanted  four  francs  more  to  be  able  to  buy  the 
Prince's  cow. 

"  Forward !  March !  Children !  "  With  baggage 
strapped  on  our  back  we  set  forth  on  the  road,  with 
Capi  barking  and  rolling  in  the  dust  for  joy. 

Mattia  suggested  that  we  get  a  little  more  money 
before  buying  the  cow;  the  more  money  we  had, 
the  better  the  cow,  and  the  better  the  cow,  the 
more  pleased  Mother  Barberin  would  be. 

While  tramping  from  Pans  to  Varses  I  had  be- 
gun to  give  Mattia  reading  lessons  and  elementary 
music  lessons.  I  continued  these  lessons  now. 
Either  I  was  not  a  good  teacher,  which  was  quite 
possible,  or  Mattia  was  not  a  good  pupil,  which 


264 NOBODY'S  BOY 

also  was  quite  possible ;  the  lessons  were  not  a  suc- 
cess. Often  I  got  angry  and,  shutting  the  book 
with  a  bang,  told  him  that  he  was  a  thickhead. 

"  That's  true,"  he  said,  smiling ;  "  my  head  is 
only  soft  when  it's  banged.  Garofoli  found  out 
that!" 

How  could  one  keep  angry  at  this  reply.  I 
laughed  and  we  went  on  with  the  lessons.  But 
with  music,  from  the  beginning,  he  made  astonish- 
ing progress.  In  the  end,  he  so  confused  me  with 
his  questions,  that  I  was  obliged  to  confess  that  I 
could  not  teach  him  any  more.  This  confession 
mortified  me  exceedingly.  I  had  been  a  very 
proud  professor,  and  it  was  humiliating  for  me  not 
to  be  able  to  answer  my  pupil's  questions.  And 
he  did  not  spare  me,  oh,  no! 

"  I'd  like  to  go  and  take  one  lesson  from  a  real 
master,"  he  said,  "  only  just  one,  and  I'll  ask  him 
all  the  questions  that  I  want  answered." 

"Why  didn't  you  take  this  lesson  from  a  real 
master  while  I  was  in  the  mine?  " 

"  Because  I  didn't  want  to  take  what  he  would 
charge  out  of  your  money." 

I  was  hurt  when  Mattia  had  spoken  thus  of  a 
real  master,  but  my  absurd  vanity  could  not  hold 
out  against  his  last  words. 

"  You're  a  good  boy,"  I  said ;  "  my  money  is  your 
money;  you  earn  it  also,  and  more  than  I,  very 
often.  You  can  take  as  many  lessons  as  you  like, 
and  I'll  take  them  with  you." 

The  master,  the  real  master  that  we  required, 


ONCE  MORE  UPON  THE  WAY    265 

was  not  a  villager,  but  an  artiste,  a  great  artiste, 
such  as  might  be  found  only  in  important  towns. 
Consulting  our  map  we  found  that  the  next  big 
town  was  Mendes. 

It  was  already  night  when  we  reached  Mendes 
and,  as  we  were  tired  out,  we  decided  that  we  could 
not  take  a  lesson  that  evening.  We  asked  the  land- 
lady of  the  inn  where  we  could  find  a  good  music 
master.  She  said  that  she  was  very  surprised  that 
we  asked  such  a  question;  surely,  we  knew  Mon- 
sieur Espinassous! 

"  We've  come  from  a  distance,"  I  said. 

"You  must  have  come  from  a  very  great  dis- 
tance, then?  " 

"  From  Italy,"  replied  Mattia. 

Then  she  was  no  longer  astonished,  and  she  ad- 
mitted that,  coming  from  so  far  then,  we  might 
not  have  heard  of  M.  Espinassous. 

"  Is  this  professor  very  busy?  "  I  asked,  fearing 
that  such  a  celebrated  musician  might  not  care  to 
give  just  one  lesson  to  two  little  urchins  like  our- 
selves. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  should  say  he  is  busy ;  how  couldn't 
he  be?  " 

"  Do  you  think  that  he  would  receive  us  to-mor- 
row morning?  " 

"  Sure !  He  receives  every  one,  when  they  have 
money  in  their  pockets  .  .  .  naturally." 

We  understood  that,  of  course. 

Before  going  to  sleep,  we  discussed  all  the  ques- 
tions that  we  intended  asking  the  celebrated  pro- 


266 NOBODY'S  BOY 

fessor  the  next  day.  Mattia  wag  quite  elated  at 
our  luck  in  finding  just  the  kind  of  musician  we 
wanted. 

Next  morning  we  took  our  instruments,  Mattia 
his  violin  and  I  my  harp,  and  set  out  to  find  M. 
Espinassous.  We  did  not  take  Capi,  because  we 
thought  that  it  would  not  do  to  call  on  such  a  cele- 
brated person  with  a  dog.  We  tied  him  up  in  the 
inn  stables.  When  we  reached  the  house  which 
our  landlady  indicated  was  the  professor's,  we 
thought  that  we  must  have  made  a  mistake,  for  be- 
fore the  house  two  little  brass  plaques  were  swing- 
ing, which  was  certainly  not  the  sign  of  a  music 
professor.  The  place  bore  every  appearance  of  a 
barber's  shop.  Turning  to  a  man,  who  was  pass- 
ing, we  asked  him  if  he  could  direct  us  to  M.  Es- 
pinassous' house. 

"There  it  is,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  barber's 
shop. 

After  all,  why  should  not  a  professor  live  with  a 
barber?  We  entered.  The  shop  was  partitioned 
off  into  two  equal  parts.  On  the  right  were 
brushes,  combs,  jars  of  cream,  and  barbers'  chairs. 
On  the  left,  hanging  on  the  walls  and  on  the  shelves, 
were  various  instruments,  violins,  cornets,  trom- 
bones, etc. 

"  Monsieur  Espinassous?  "  inquired  Mattia. 

Fluttering  like  a  bird,  the  dapper  little  man, 
who  was  in  the  act  of  shaving  a  man,  replied :  "  I 
am  Monsieur  Espinassous." 

I  glanced  at  Mattia  as  much  as  to  say  that  the 


ONCE  MORE  UPON  THE  WAY    267 

barber  musician  was  not  the  man  we  were  looking 
for,  that  it  would  be  wasting  good  money  to  con- 
sult him,  but  Mattia,  instead  of  understanding  my 
look,  sat  down  in  a  chair  with  a  deliberate  air. 

"Will  you  cut  my  hair  after  you  have  shaved 
that  gentleman?  "  he  asked. 

"  Certainly,  young  man,  and  I'll  give  you  a  shave 
also,  if  you  like." 

"  Thanks,"  replied  Mattia. 

I  was  abashed  at  his  assurance.  He  looked  at 
me  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  to  ask  me  to  wait 
before  getting  annoyed. 

When  the  man  was  shaved,  M.  Espinassous,  with 
towel  over  his  arm,  prepared  to  cut  Mattia's  hair. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Mattia,  while  the  barber  tied 
the  sheet  round  his  neck,  "  my  friend  and  I  had  an 
argument,  and  as  we  know  that  you  are  a  cele- 
brated musician,  we  thought  that  you  would  give 
us  your  advice  and  settle  the  matter  for  us." 

"  What  is  it,  young  man?  " 

Now  I  knew  what  Mattia  was  driving  at !  First 
of  all,  he  wanted  to  see  if  this  barber-musician  was 
capable  of  replying  to  our  questions;  if  so,  he  in- 
tended to  get  a  music  lesson  at  the  price  of  a  hair 
cut. 

All  the  while  Mattia  was  having  his  hair  cut,  he 
asked  questions.  The  barber-musician  was  highly 
amused,  but  answered  each  question  put  to  him 
quickly  and  with  pleasure.  When  we  were  ready 
to  leave  he  asked  Mattia  to  play  something  on  his 
violin.  Mattia  played  a  piece. 


268 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  And  you  don't  know  a  note  of  music ! "  cried 
the  barber,  clapping  his  hands,  and  looking  affec- 
tionately at  Mattia  as  though  he  had  known  and 
loved  him  all  his  life.  "  It  is  wonderful ! " 

Mattia  took  a  clarionette  from  amongst  the  in- 
struments and  played  on  it ;  then  a  cornet. 

"  Why,  the  youngster's  a  prodigy ! "  cried  M. 
Espinassous  in  rapture ;  "  if  you  will  stay  here 
with  me  I'll  make  you  a  great  musician.  In  the 
mornings  you  shall  learn  to  shave  my  customers 
and  the  rest  of  the  day  you  shall  study  music. 
Don't  think,  because  I'm  a  barber,  I  don't  know 
music.  One  has  to  live !  " 

I  looked  at  Mattia.  What  was  he  going  to  re- 
ply? Was  I  to  lose  my  friend,  my  chum,  my 
brother? 

"  Think  for  your  own  good,  Mattia,"  I  said,  but 
my  voice  shook. 

"  Leave  my  friend?  "  he  cried,  linking  his  arm  in 
mine ;  "  that  I  never  could,  but  thank  you  all  the 
same,  Monsieur." 

M.  Espinassous  insisted,  and  told  Mattia  that 
later  they  would  find  the  means  to  send  him  to  the 
Conservatoire  in  Paris,  because  he  would  surely 
be  a  great  musician! 

"  Leave  Eemi?  never !  " 

"Well,  then,"  replied  the  barber,  sorrowfully, 
"let  me  give  you  a  book  and  you  can  learn  what 
you  do  not  know  from  that."  He  took  a  book  out 
of  one  of  the  drawers,  entitled,  "  The  Theory  of 
Music."  It  was  old  and  torn,  but  what  did  that 


ONCE  MORE  UPON  THE  WAY    269 

matter?  Taking  a  pen,  he  sat  down  and  wrote  on 
the  first  page: 

"  To  a  child  who,  when  he  becomes  celebrated, 
will  remember  the  barber  of  Mendes." 

I  don't  know  if  there  were  any  other  professors 
of  music  at  Mendes,  but  that  was  the  only  one  we 
knew,  and  we  never  forgot  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

FRIENDSHIP  THAT  IS  TRUE 

I  LOVED  Mattia  when  we  arrived  at  Mendes, 
but  when  we  left  the  town  I  loved  him  even 
mora  I  could  not  tell  him  before  the  barber  how 
I  felt  when  he  cried  out :  "  Leave  my  friend !  " 

I  took  his  hand  and  squeezed  it  as  we  tramped 
along. 

"  It's  till  death  doth  us  part  now,  Mattia,"  I 
said. 

"  I  knew  that  long  ago,"  he  replied,  smiling  at 
me  with  his  great,  dark  eyes. 

We  heard  that  there  was  going  to  be  an  impor- 
tant cattle  fair  at  Ussel,  so  we  decided  to  go  there 
and  buy  the  cow.  It  was  on  our  way  to  Cha- 
vanon.  We  played  in  every  town  and  village  on 
the  road,  and  by  the  time  we  had  reached  Ussel 
we  had  collected  two  hundred  and  forty  francs. 
We  had  to  economize  in  every  possible  manner  to 
save  this  sum,  but  Mattia  was  just  as  interested 
and  eager  to  buy  the  animal  as  I.  He  wanted  it 
to  be  white;  I  wanted  brown  in  memory  of  poor 
Rousette.  We  both  agreed,  however,  that  she 
must  be  very  gentle  and  give  plenty  of  milk 

As  neither  of  us  knew  by  what  signs  one  could 
tell  a  good  cow,  we  decided  to  employ  the  services 
of  a  veterinarian.  We  had  heard  many  stories  of 

270 


FRIENDSHIP  THAT  IS  TRUE    271 

late  how  people  had  been  deceived  when  buying  a 
cow,  and  we  did  not  want  to  run  any  risk.  It 
would  be  an  expense  to  employ  a  veterinarian,  but 
that  could  not  be  helped.  We  had  heard  of  one 
man  who  had  bought  an  animal  for  a  very  low 
price  and  when  he  had  got  her  home  he  found  that 
she  had  a  false  tail ;  another  man,  so  we  were  told, 
had  bought  a  cow  which  seemed  to  be  in  a  very 
healthy  state,  and  had  every  appearance  of  giving 
plenty  of  milk,  but  she  only  gave  two  glasses  of 
milk  in  twenty-four  hours.  By  a  little  trick,  prac- 
ticed by  the  cattle  dealer,  the  animal  was  made  to 
look  as  though  she  had  plenty  of  milk. 

Mattia  said  that  as  far  as  the  false  tail  went 
we  had  nothing  to  fear,  for  he  would  hang  onto 
the  tail  of  every  cow  with  all  his  might,  before  we 
entered  into  any  discussion  with  the  seller.  When 
I  told  him  that  if  it  were  a  real  tail  he  would  prob- 
ably get  a  kick  in  the  stomach  or  on  his  head,  his 
imagination  cooled  somewhat. 

It  was  several  years  since  I  had  arrived  at  Ussel 
with  Vitalis,  where  he  had  bought  me  my  first  pair 
of  shoes  with  nails.  Alas!  out  of  the  six  of  us 
who  started,  Capi  and  I  were  the  only  ones  left. 
As  soon  as  we  got  to  the  town,  after  having  left 
our  baggage  at  the  same  inn  where  I  had  stayed 
before  with  Vitalis  and  the  dogs,  we  began  to  look 
about  for  a  veterinarian.  We  found  one  and  he 
seemed  very  amused  when  we  described  to  him  the 
kind  of  a  cow  we  wanted,  and  asked  if  he  would 
come  and  buy  it  for  us. 


272 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  But  what  in  the  world  do  you  two  boys  want 
with  a  cow,  and  have  you  got  the  money?  "  he  de- 
manded. 

We  told  him  how  much  money  we  had,  and  how 
we  got  it,  and  that  we  were  going  to  give  a  pres- 
ent, a  surprise,  to  Mother  Barberin  of  Chavanon, 
who  had  looked  after  me  when  I  was  a  baby.  He 
showed  a  very  kindly  interest  then,  and  promised 
to  meet  us  the  next  morning  at  the  fair  at  seven 
o'clock.  When  we  asked  him  his  charges  he  re- 
fused flatly  to  accept  anything.  He  sent  us  off 
laughing  and  told  us  to  be  at  the  fair  on  time. 

The  next  day  at  daybreak  the  town  was  full  of 
excitement.  From  our  room  at  the  inn  we  could 
hear  the  carts  and  wagons  rolling  over  the  cobble- 
stones in  the  street  below,  and  the  cows  bellowing, 
the  sheep  bleating,  the  farmers  shouting  at  their 
animals  and  joking  with  each  other.  We  jumped 
into  our  clothes  and  arrived  at  the  fair  at  six 
o'clock,  for  we  wanted  to  make  a  selection  before 
the  veterinarian  arrived. 

What  beautiful  cows  they  were,  ...  all  colors, 
and  all  sizes,  some  fat,  some  thin,  and  some  with 
their  calves;  there  were  also  horses  and  great  fat 
pigs,  scooping  holes  in  the  ground,  and  little  plump 
sucking  pigs,  squealing  as  though  they  were  being 
skinned  alive.  But  we  had  eyes  for  nothing  but 
the  cows;  they  stood  very  quiet,  placidly  chewing. 
They  permitted  us  to  make  a  thorough  examina- 
tion, merely  blinking  their  eyelids.  After  one 


FRIENDSHIP  THAT  IS  TRUE    273 

hour's  inspection,  we  had  found  seventeen  that 
pleased  us,  this  for  one  quality,  that  for  another, 
a  third  because  she  was  red,  two  because  they  were 
white,  which,  of  course,  brought  up  a  discussion 
between  Mattia  and  myself.  The  veterinarian  ar- 
rived. We  showed  him  the  cows  we  liked. 

"  I  think  this  one  ought  to  be  a  good  one,"  Mat- 
tia said,  pointing  to  a  white  animal. 

"  I  think  that  is  a  better  one,"  I  said,  indicating 
a  red  one. 

The  veterinarian  stopped  the  argument  we  had 
begun  by  ignoring  both  and  passing  on  to  a  third 
one.  This  one  had  slim  legs,  red  coat  with  brown 
ears  and  cheeks,  eyes  bordered  with  black,  and  a 
whitish  circle  around  her  muzzle. 

"  This  is  just  the  one  you  want,"  said  the  veteri- 
narian. 

It  was  a  beauty!  Mattia  and  I  now  saw  that 
this  was  the  best.  The  veterinarian  asked  a  heavy 
looking  peasant,  who  held  the  cow  by  a  rope,  how 
much  he  wanted  for  it. 

"  Three  hundred  francs,"  he  replied. 

Our  mouths  dropped.  Three  hundred  francs! 
I  made  a  sign  to  the  veterinarian  that  we  must 
pass  on  to  another;  he  made  another  sign  that  he 
would  drive  a  bargain.  Then  a  lively  discussion 
commenced  between  the  veterinarian  and  the  peas- 
ant. Our  bidder  went  up  to  170,  the  peasant  came 
down  to  280.  When  they  reached  this  sum,  the 
veterinarian  began  to  examine  the  cow  more 


274 NOBODY'S  BOY 

critically.  She  had  weak  legs,  her  neck  was  too 
short,  her  horns  too  long,  she  hadn't  any  lungs  and 
her  teats  were  not  well  formed.  No,  she  certainly 
would  not  give  much  milk. 

The  peasant  said  that  as  we  knew  so  much  about 
cows,  he  would  let  us  have  her  for  250  francs,  be- 
cause he  felt  sure  she  would  be  in  good  hands. 
Thereupon  we  began  to  get  scared,  for  both  Mattia 
and  I  thought  that  it  must  be  a  poor  cow  then. 

"  Let  us  go  and  see  some  others,"  I  suggested, 
touching  the  veterinarian's  arm. 

Hearing  this,  the  man  came  down  ten  francs. 
Then,  little  by  little,  he  came  down  to  210  francs, 
but  he  stopped  there.  The  veterinarian  had 
nudged  me  and  given  me  to  understand  that  he 
was  not  serious  in  saying  what  he  did  about  the 
cow,  that  it  was  an  excellent  animal,  but  then  210 
francs  was  a  large  sum  for  us. 

During  this  time  Mattia  had  gone  behind  her 
and  pulled  a  long  wisp  of  hair  from  her  tail  and 
the  animal  had  given  him  a  kick.  That  decided 
me. 

"  All  right,  210  francs,"  I  said,  thinking  the  mat- 
ter was  settled.  I  held  out  my  hand  to  take  the 
rope. 

"  Have  you  brought  a  halter?  "  asked  the  man. 
"  I'm  selling  my  cow,  not  the  halter." 

He  said  that,  as  we  were  friends,  he  would  let 
me  have  the  halter  for  sixty  sous.  We  needed  a 
halter,  so  I  parted  with  the  sixty  sous,  calculating 
that  we  should  now  have  but  twenty  sous  left.  I 


FRIENDSHIP  THAT  IS  TRUE    275 

counted  out  the  two  hundred  and  thirteen  francs, 
then  again  I  stretched  out  my  hand. 

"  Have  you  got  a  rope? "  inquired  the  man. 
"  I've  sold  you  the  halter,  but  I  haven't  sold  you 
the  rope." 

The  rope  cost  us  our  last  twenty  sous. 

The  cow  was  finally  handed  over  to  us,  but  we 
had  not  a  sou  left  to  buy  food  for  the  animal,  nor 
for  ourselves.  After  warmly  thanking  the  veteri- 
narian for  his  kindness,  we  shook  hands  and  said 
good-by  to  him,  and  went  back  to  the  inn,  where 
we  tied  our  cow  up  in  the  stable.  As  it  was  a  very 
busy  day  in  the  town  on  account  of  the  fair,  and 
people  from  all  parts  had  come  in,  Mattia  and  I 
thought  that  it  would  be  better  for  each  to  go  his 
own  way  and  see  what  we  could  make.  In  the 
evening  Mattia  brought  back  four  francs  and  I 
three  francs  fifty  centimes. 

With  seven  francs  fifty  we  felt  that  we  were 
again  rich.  We  persuaded  the  kitchen  maid  to 
milk  our  cow  and  we  had  the  milk  for  supper. 
Never  had  we  tasted  anything  so  good!  We  were 
so  enthusiastic  about  the  quality  of  the  milk  that 
we  went  into  the  stable  as  soon  as  we  had  finished 
to  embrace  our  treasure.  The  cow  evidently  ap- 
preciated this  caress,  for  she  licked  our  faces  to 
show  her  appreciation. 

To  understand  the  pleasure  that  we  felt  at  kiss- 
ing our  cow  and  to  be  kissed  by  her,  it  must  be 
remembered  that  neither  Mattia  nor  I  had  been 
overburdened  with  caresses ;  our  fate  had  not  been 


276 NOBODY'S  BOY 

that  of  the  petted  and  pampered  children  who  are 
obliged  to  defend  themselves  against  too  many 
kisses. 

The  next  morning  we  rose  with  the  sun  and 
started  for  Chavanon.  How  grateful  I  was  to 
Mattia  for  the  help  he  had  given  me;  without  him 
I  never  could  have  collected  such  a  big  sum.  I 
wanted  to  give  him  the  pleasure  of  leading  the  cow, 
and  he  was  very  proud  indeed  to  pull  her  by  the 
rope  while  I  walked  behind.  She  looked  very  fine; 
she  walked  along  slowly,  swaying  a  little,  holding 
herself  like  an  animal  that  is  aware  of  her  value. 
I  did  not  want  to  tire  her  out,  so  I  decided  not  to 
get  to  Chavanon  that  evening  late;  better,  I 
thought,  get  there  early  in  the  morning.  That  is 
what  we  intended  to  do ;  this  is  what  happened : 

I  intended  to  stay  the  night  in  the  village  where 
I  had  spent  my  first  night  with  Vitalis,  when  Capi, 
seeing  me  so  unhappy,  came  to  me  and  lay  down 
beside  me.  Before  reaching  this  village  we  came 
to  a  nice  green  spot,  and,  throwing  down  our  bag- 
gage, we  decided  to  rest.  We  made  our  cow  go 
down  into  a  ditch.  At  first  I  wanted  to  hold  her 
by  the  rope,  but  she  seemed  very  docile,  and  quite 
accustomed  to  grazing,  so  after  a  time  I  twisted  the 
rope  around  her  horns  and  sat  down  near  her  to 
eat  my  supper.  Naturally  we  had  finished  eating 
long  before  she  had,  so  after  having  admired  her 
for  some  time  and  not  knowing  what  to  do  next,  we 
began  to  play  a  little  game  with  each  other. 
When  we  had  finished  our  game,  she  was  still  eat- 


FRIENDSHIP  THAT  IS  TRUE    277 

ing.  As  I  went  to  her,  she  pulled  at  the  grass 
sharply,  as  much  as  to  say  that  she  was  still 
hungry. 

"  Wait  a  little,"  said  Mattia. 

"Don't  you  know  that  a  cow  can  eat  all  day 
long?"  I  replied. 

"  Well,  wait  a  little." 

We  got  our  baggage  and  instruments  together, 
but  still  she  would  not  stop  eating. 

"  I'll  play  her  a  piece  on  the  cornet,"  said  Mat- 
tia, who  found  it  difficult  to  keep  still.  "There 
was  a  cow  at  Gassot's  Circus  and  she  liked  music." 

He  commenced  to  play  a  lively  march. 

At  the  first  note  the  cow  lifted  up  her  head ;  then 
suddenly,  before  I  could  throw  myself  at  her  horns 
to  catch  hold  of  the  rope,  she  had  gone  off  at  a  gal- 
lop. We  raced  after  her  as  fast  as  we  could,  call- 
ing to  her  to  stop.  I  shouted  to  Capi  to  stop  her. 
Now  one  cannot  be  endowed  with  every  talent.  A 
cattle  driver's  dog  would  have  jumped  at  her  nose, 
but  Capi  was  a  genius,  so  he  jumped  at  her  legs. 
Naturally,  this  made  her  run  faster.  She  raced 
back  to  the  last  village  we  had  passed  through. 
As  the  road  was  straight,  we  could  see  her  in  the 
distance,  and  we  saw  several  people  blocking  her 
way  and  trying  to  catch  hold  of  her.  We  slack- 
ened our  speed,  for  we  knew  now  that  we  should 
not  lose  her.  All  we  should  have  to  do  would  be 
to  claim  her  from  the  good  people  who  had  stopped 
her  going  farther.  There  was  quite  a  crowd  gath- 
ered round  her  when  we  arrived  on  the  scene,  and 


I 
278 NOBODY'S  BOY 

instead  of  giving  her  up  to  us  at  once,  as  we  ex- 
pected they  would,  they  asked  us  how  we  got  the 
animal  and  where  we  got  her.  They  insisted  that 
we  had  stolen  her  and  that  she  was  running  back 
to  her  owner.  They  declared  that  we  ought  to  go 
to  prison  until  the  truth  could  be  discovered.  At 
the  very  mention  of  the  word  "  prison  "  I  turned 
pale  and  began  to  stammer.  I  was  breathless  from 
my  race  and  could  not  utter  a  word.  At  this  mo- 
ment a  policeman  arrived,  and,  in  a  few  words,  the 
whole  affair  was  explained  to  him.  As  it  did  not 
seem  at  all  clear,  he  decided  to  take  possession  of 
the  cow  and  have  us  locked  up  until  we  could  prove 
that  it  belonged  to  us.  The  whole  village  seemed 
to  be  in  the  procession  which  ran  behind  us  up  to 
the  town  hall,  which  was  also  the  station  house. 
The  mob  pushed  us  and  sneered  at  us  and  called 
us  the  most  horrible  names,  and  I  do  believe  that 
if  the  officer  had  not  defended  us  they  would  have 
lynched  us  as  though  we  were  criminals  of  the 
deepest  dye.  The  man  who  had  charge  of  the  town 
hall,  and  who  was  also  jailer  and  sheriff,  did  not 
want  to  admit  us.  I  thought  what  a  kind  man! 
However,  the  policeman  insisted  that  we  be  locked 
up,  and  the  jailer  finally  turned  the  big  key  in  a 
double-locked  door  and  pushed  us  into  the  prison. 
Then  I  saw  why  he  had  made  some  difficulty  about 
receiving  us.  He  had  put  his  provision  of  onions 
to  dry  in  this  prison  and  they  were  strewn  out  on 
every  bench.  He  heaped  them  all  together  in  a 
corner.  We  were  searched,  our  money,  matches 


FRIENDSHIP  THAT  IS  TRUE    279 

and  knives  taken  from  us.  Then  we  were  locked 
up  for  the  night. 

"  I  wish  you'd  give  me  a  good  slap,"  said  Mattia 
miserably,  when  we  were  alone ;  "  box  my  ears  or 
do  something  to  me." 

"  I  was  as  big  a  fool  as  you  to  let  you  play  the 
cornet  to  a  cow,"  I  replied. 

"  Oh,  I  feel  so  bad  about  it,"  he  said  brokenly ; 
"  our  poor  cow,  the  Prince's  cow !  "  He  began  to 
cry. 

Then  I  tried  to  console  him  by  telling  him  that 
our  situation  was  not  very  serious.  We  would 
prove  that  we  bought  the  cow;  we  would  send  to 
Ussel  for  the  veterinarian  ...  he  would  be  a  wit- 
ness. 

"  But  if  they  say  we  stole  the  money  to  buy  it," 
he  said,  "  we  can't  prove  that  we  earned  it,  and 
when  one  is  unfortunate  they  always  think  you're 
guilty."  That  was  true. 

"  And  who'll  feed  her? "  went  on  Mattia  dis- 
mally. 

Oh,  dear,  I  did  hope  that  they  would  feed  our 
poor  cow. 

"  And  what  are  we  going  to  say  when  they  ques- 
tion us  in  the  morning?  "  asked  Mattia. 

"  Tell  them  the  truth." 

"And  then  they'll  hand  you  over  to  Barberin, 
or  if  Mother  Barberin  is  alone  at  her  place  and 
they  question  her  to  see  if  we  are  lying,  we  can't 
give  her  a  surprise," 

"Oh,  dear!" 


280 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  You've  been  away  from  Mother  Barberin  for  a 
long  time;  how  do  you  know  if  she  isn't  dead?  " 

This  terrible  thought  had  never  occurred  to  me, 
and  yet  poor  Vitalis  had  died,  .  .  .  how  was  it  I 
had  not  thought  that  I  might  lose  her.  .  .  . 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  that  before?  "  I  demanded. 

"  Because  when  I'm  happy  I  don't  have  those 
ideas.  I  have  been  so  happy  at  the  thought  of 
offering  your  cow  to  Mother  Barberin  and  think- 
ing how  pleased  she'd  be,  I  never  thought  before 
that  she  might  be  dead." 

It  must  have  been  the  influence  of  this  dismal 
room,  for  we  could  only  see  the  darkest  side  of 
everything. 

"  And,  oh,"  cried  Mattia,  starting  up  and  throw- 
ing out  his  arms,  "  if  Mother  Barberin  is  dead  and 
that  awful  Barberin  is  alive  and  we  go  there,  he'll 
take  our  cow  and  keep  it  himself." 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  door  was 
thrown  open  and  an  old  gentleman  with  white  hair 
came  into  our  prison. 

"  Now,  you  rogues,  answer  this  gentleman,"  said 
the  jailer,  who  accompanied  him. 

"  That's  all  right,  that's  all  right,"  said  the  gen- 
tleman, who  was  the  public  prosecutor,  "  I'll  ques- 
tion this  one."  With  his  finger  he  indicated  me. 
"  You  take  charge  of  the  other ;  I'll  question  him 
later." 

I  was  alone  with  the  prosecutor.  Fixing  me 
with  his  eye,  he  told  me  that  I  was  accused  of  hav- 


FRIENDSHIP  THAT  IS  TRUE    281 

ing  stolen  a  cow.  I  told  him  that  we  bought  the 
animal  at  the  fair  at  Ussel,  and  I  named  the  veteri- 
narian who  had  assisted  us  in  the  purchase. 

"  That  will  be  verified,"  he  replied.  "  And  now 
what  made  you  buy  that  cow?  " 

I  told  him  that  I  was  offering  it  as  a  token  of 
affection  to  my  foster  mother. 

"  Her  name?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Madame  Barberin  of  Chavanon,"  I  replied. 

"The  wife  of  a  mason  who  met  with  a  serious 
accident  in  Paris  a  few  years  ago.  I  know  her. 
That  also  will  be  verified." 

"Oh!  .  .  ." 

I  became  very  confused.  Seeing  my  embarrass- 
ment, the  prosecutor  pressed  me  with  questions, 
and  I  had  to  tell  him  that  if  he  made  inquiries  of 
Madame  Barberin  our  cow  would  not  be  a  surprise 
after  all,  and  to  make  it  a  surprise  had  been  our 
chief  object.  But  in  the  midst  of  my  confusion  I 
felt  a  great  satisfaction  to  know  that  Mother  Bar- 
berin was  still  alive,  and  in  the  course  of  the  ques- 
tions that  were  put  to  me  I  learned  that  Barberin 
had  gone  back  to  Paris  some  time  ago.  This  de- 
lighted me. 

Then  came  the  question  that  Mattia  had  feared. 

"  But  how  did  you  get  all  the  money  to  buy  the 
cow?" 

I  explained  that  from  Paris  to  Varses  and  from 
Varses  to  Ussel  we  had  collected  this  sum,  sou 
by  sou. 


28* NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  But  what  were  you  doing  in  Varses?  "  he  asked. 

Then  I  was  forced  to  tell  him  that  I  had  been 
in  a  mine  accident 

"  Which  of  you  two  is  Kemi?  "  he  asked,  in  a 
softened  voice. 

"  I  am,  sir,"  I  replied. 

"  To  prove  that,  you  tell  me  how  the  catastrophe 
occurred.  I  read  the  whole  account  of  it  in  the 
papers.  You  cannot  deceive  me.  I  can  tell  if  you 
really  are  Kemi.  Now,  be  careful." 

I  could  see  that  he  was  feeling  very  lenient  to- 
wards us.  I  told  him  my  experience  in  the  mine, 
and  when  I  had  finished  my  story,  I  thought  from 
his  manner,  which  was  almost  affectionate,  that  he 
would  give  us  our  freedom  at  once,  but  instead  he 
went  out  of  the  room,  leaving  me  alone,  a  prey  to 
my  thoughts.  After  some  time  he  returned  with 
Mattia. 

"  I  am  going  to  have  your  story  investigated  at 
Ussel,"  he  said.  "  If  it  is  true,  as  I  hope  it  is,  you 
will  be  free  to-morrow." 

"  And  our  cow?  "  asked  Mattia  anxiously. 

"  Will  be  given  back  to  you." 

"  I  didn't  mean  that,"  replied  Mattia ;  "  but 
who'll  feed  her,  who'll  milk  her?  " 

"Don't  worry,  youngster,"  said  the  prosecutor. 

Mattia  smiled  contentedly. 

"Ah,  then  if  they  milk  our  cow,"  he  asked, 
"  may  we  have  some  milk  for  supper?" 

"  You  certainly  shall !  " 

As  soon  as  we  were  alone  I  told  Mattia  the  great 


FRIENDSHIP  THAT  IS  TRUE    288 

news  that  had  almost  made  me  forget  that  we  were 
locked  up. 

"  Mother  Barberin  is  alive,  and  Barberin  has 
gone  to  Paris !  "  I  said. 

"Ah,  then  the  Prince's  cow  will  make  a  trium- 
phal entry." 

He  commenced  to  dance  and  sing  with  joy. 
Carried  away  by  his  gayety,  I  caught  him  by  the 
hands,  and  Capi,  who  until  then  had  been  lying  in 
a  corner,  quiet  and  thoughtful,  jumped  up  and 
took  his  place  between  us,  standing  up  on  his  hind 
paws.  We  then  threw  ourselves  into  such  a  wild 
dance  that  the  jailer  rushed  in  to  see  what  was 
the  matter,  probably  afraid  for  his  onions.  He 
told  us  to  stop,  but  he  spoke  very  differently  to 
what  he  had  before.  By  that,  I  felt  that  we  were 
not  in  a  very  serious  plight.  I  had  further  proof 
of  this  when  a  moment  later  he  came  in  carrying 
a  big  bowl  of  milk,  our  cow's  milk.  And  that  was 
not  all.  He  brought  a  large  piece  of  white  bread 
and  some  cold  veal,  which  he  said  the  prosecutor 
had  sent  us.  Decidedly,  prisons  were  not  so  bad 
after  all;  dinner  and  lodging  for  nothing! 

Early  the  next  morning  the  prosecutor  came  in 
with  our  friend  the  veterinarian,  who  had  wanted 
to  come  himself  to  see  that  we  got  our  freedom. 
Before  we  left,  the  prosecutor  handed  us  an  official 
stamped  paper. 

"  See,  I'm  giving  you  this,"  he  said ;  "  you  are 
two  silly  boys  to  go  tramping  through  the  country 
without  any  papers.  I  have  asked  the  mayor  to 


284 NOBODY'S  BOY 

make  out  this  passport  for  you.  This  is  all  you 
will  need  to  protect  you  in  the  future.  Good  luck, 
boys." 

He  shook  hands  with  us,  and  so  did  the  veteri- 
narian. 

We  had  entered  the  village  miserably,  but  we  left 
in  triumph.  Leading  our  cow  by  the  rope  and 
walking  with  heads  held  high,  wre  glanced  over  our 
shoulders  at  the  villagers,  who  were  standing  on 
their  doorsteps  staring  at  us. 

I  did  not  want  to  tire  our  cow,  but  I  was  in  a 
hurry  to  get  to  Chavanon  that  same  day,  so  we  set 
out  briskly.  By  evening  we  had  almost  reached 
my  old  home.  Mattia  had  never  tasted  pancakes, 
and  I  had  promised  him  some  as  soon  as  we  arrived. 
On  the  way  I  bought  one  pound  of  butter,  two 
pounds  of  flour  and  a  dozen  eggs.  We  had  now 
reached  the  spot  where  I  had  asked  Vitalis  to  let 
me  rest,  so  that  I  could  look  down  on  Mother  Bar- 
berin's  house,  as  I  thought  for  the  last  time. 

"  Take  the  rope,"  I  said  to  Mattia. 

With  a  spring  I  was  on  the  parapet.  Nothing 
had  been  changed  in  our  valley ;  it  looked  just  the 
same ;  the  smoke  was  even  coming  out  of  the  chim- 
ney. As  it  came  towards  us  it  seemed  to  me  I 
could  smell  oak  leaves.  I  jumped  down  from  the 
parapet  and  hugged  Mattia,  Capi  sprang  up  on 
me,  and  I  squeezed  them  both  tight. 

"  Come,  let's  get  there  as  quickly  as  possible 
now,"  I  cried. 

"  What  a  pity,"  sighed  Mattia.    "  If  this  brute 


FRIENDSHIP  THAT  IS  TRUE    285 

only  loved  music,  what  a  triumphal  entry  we  could 
make." 

As  we  arrived  at  one  of  the  turns  in  the  road, 
we  saw  Mother  Barberin  come  out  of  her  cottage 
and  go  off  in  the  direction  of  the  village.  What 
was  to  be  done?  We  had  intended  to  spring  a  sur- 
prise upon  her.  WTe  should  have  to  think  of  some- 
thing else. 

Knowing  that  the  door  was  always  on  the  latch, 
I  decided  to  go  straight  into  the  house,  after  tying 
our  cow  up  in  the  cowshed.  We  found  the  shed 
full  of  wood  now,  so  we  heaped  it  up  in  a  corner, 
and  put  our  cow  in  poor  Rousette's  place. 

When  we  got  into  the  house,  I  said  to  Mattia: 
"  Now,  I'll  take  this  seat  by  the  fire  so  that  she'll 
find  me  here.  When  she  opens  the  gate,  you'll 
hear  it  creak ;  then  you  hide  yourself  with  Capi." 

I  sat  down  in  the  very  spot  where  I  had  always 
sat  on  a  winter  night.  I  crouched  down,  making 
myself  look  as  small  as  possible,  so  as  to  look  as 
near  like  Mother  Barberin's  little  Remi  as  I  could. 
From  where  I  sat  I  could  watch  the  gate.  I  looked 
round  the  kitchen.  Nothing  was  changed,  every- 
thing was  in  the  same  place;  a  pane  of  glass  that 
I  had  broken  still  had  the  bit  of  paper  pasted  over 
it,  black  with  smoke  and  age.  Suddenly  I  saw  a 
white  bonnet.  The  gate  creaked. 

"  Hide  yourself  quickly,"  I  said  to  Mattia. 

I  made  myself  smaller  and  smaller.  The  door 
opened  and  Mother  Barberin  came  in.  She  stared 
at  me. 


286 NOBODY'S  BOY         

"  Who  is  there?  "  she  asked. 

I  looked  at  her  without  answering;  she  stared 
back  at  me.  Suddenly  she  began  to  tremble. 

"  Oh,  Lord,  is  it  my  Remi !  "  she  murmured. 

I  jumped  up  and  caught  her  in  my  arms. 

"  Mamma ! " 

"  My  boy !  my  boy !  "  was  all  that  slie  could  say, 
as  she  laid  her  head  on  my  shoulder. 

Some  minutes  passed  before  we  had  controlled 
our  emotion.  I  wiped  away  her  tears. 

"  Why,  how  you've  grown,  my  boy,"  she  cried, 
holding  me  at  arms'  length,  "  you're  so  big  and  so 
strong !  Oh,  my  Eemi !  " 

A  stifled  snort  reminded  me  that  Mattia  was 
under  the  bed.  I  called  him.  He  crept  out. 

"  This  is  Mattia,"  I  said,  "  my  brother." 

"  Oh,  then  you've  found  your  parents? "  she 
cried. 

"  No,  he's  my  chum,  but  just  like  a  brother. 
And  this  is  Capi,"  I  added,  after  she  had  greeted 
Mattia.  "  Come  and  salute  your  master's  mother, 
Capitano." 

Capi  got  on  his  hind  paws  and  bowed  gravely 
to  Mother  Barberin.  She  laughed  heartily.  Her 
tears  had  quite  vanished.  Mattia  made  me  a  sign 
to  spring  our  surprise. 

"  Let's  go  and  see  how  the  garden  looks,"  I  said. 

"  I  have  kept  your  bit  just  as  you  arranged  it," 
she  said,  "  for  I  knew  that  some  day  you  would 
come  back." 

"  Did  you  get  my  Jerusalem  artichokes?  " 


FRIENDSHIP  THAT  IS  TRUE    287 

"Ah,  you  planted  them  to  surprise  me!  You 
always  liked  to  give  surprises,  my  boy." 

The  moment  had  come. 

"  Is  the  cowshed  just  the  same  since  poor  Rou- 
sette  went?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  no;  I  keep  my  wood  there  now." 

We  had  reached  the  shed  by  this  time.  I  pushed 
open  the  door  and  at  once  our  cow,  who  was 
hungry,  began  to  bellow. 

"  A  cow !  A  cow  in  my  cowshed !  "  cried  Mother 
Barberin. 

Mattia  and  I  burst  out  laughing. 

"  It's  a  surprise,"  I  cried,  "  and  a  better  one  than 
the  Jerusalem  artichokes  " 

She  looked  at  me  in  a  dazed,  astonished  manner. 

"  Yes,  it's  a  present  for  you.  I  did  not  come  back 
with  empty  hands  to  the  mamma  who  was  so  good 
to  the  little  lost  boy.  This  is  to  replace  Rousette. 
Mattia  and  I  bought  it  for  you  with  the  money  we 
earned." 

"  Oh,  the  dear  boys ! ''  she  cried,  kissing  us  both. 

She  now  went  inside  the  shed  to  examine  her 
present.  At  each  discovery  she  gave  a  shriek  of 
delight. 

"  What  a  beautiful  cow,"  she  exclaimed. 

Then  she  turned  round  suddenly. 

"  Say,  you  must  be  very  rich  now?  " 

"  I  should  say  so,"  laughed  Mattia ;  "  we've  got 
fifty-eight  sous  left." 

I  ran  to  the  house  to  fetch  the  milk  pail,  and 
while  in  the  house  I  arranged  the  butter,  eggs,  and 


288 NOBODY'S  BOY 

flour  in  a  display  on  the  table,  then  ran  back  to 
the  shed.  How  delighted  she  was  when  she  had  a 
pail  three-quarters  full  of  beautiful  frothy  milk. 

There  was  another  burst  of  delight  when  she  saw 
the  things  on  the  table  ready  for  pancakes,  which 
I  told  her  we  were  dying  to  have. 

"  You  must  have  known  that  Barberin  was  in 
Paris,  then?  "  she  said.  I  explained  to  her  how 
I  had  learned  so. 

"  I  will  tell  you  why  he  has  gone,"  she  said,  look- 
ing at  me  significantly. 

"  Let's  have  the  pancakes  first,"  I  said ;  "  don't 
let's  talk  about  htm.  I  have  not  forgotten  how  he 
sold  me  for  forty  francs,  and  it  was  my  fear  of  him, 
the  fear  that  he  would  sell  me  again,  that  kept  me 
from  writing  to  tell  you  news  of  myself." 

"  Oh,  boy,  I  thought  that  was  why,"  she  said, 
"  but  you  mustn't  speak  unkindly  of  Barberin." 

"  Well,  let's  have  the  pancakes  now,"  I  said,  hug- 
ging her. 

We  all  set  briskly  to  prepare  the  ingredients  and 
before  long  Mattia  and  I  were  cramming  pancakes 
down  our  throats.  Mattia  declared  that  he  had 
never  tasted  anything  so  fine.  As  soon  as  we  had 
finished  one  we  held  out  our  plates  for  another, 
and  Capi  came  in  for  his  share.  Mother  Barberin 
was  scandalized  that  we  should  give  a  dog  pan- 
cakes, but  we  explained  to  her  that  he  was  the  chief 
actor  in  our  company  and  a  genius,  and  that  he 
was  treated  by  us  with  every  consideration. 
Later,  while  Mattia  was  out  getting  some  wood 


FRIENDSHIP  THAT  IS  TRUE    289 

ready  for  the  next  morning,  she  told  me  why  Bar- 
berin  had  gone  to  Paris. 

"  Your  family  is  looking  for  you,"  she  said,  al- 
most in  a  whisper.  "  That's  what  Barberin  has 
gone  up  to  Paris  about.  He's  looking  for  you." 

"  My  family,"  I  exclaimed.  "  Oh,  have  I  a  fam- 
ily of  my  own?  Speak,  tell  all,  Mother  Barberin, 
dear  Mother  Barberin !  " 

Then  I  got  frightened.  I  did  not  believe  that 
my  family  was  looking  for  me.  Barberin  was  try- 
ing to  find  me  so  that  he  could  sell  me  again.  I 
would  not  be  sold !  I  told  my  fears  to  Mother  Bar- 
berin, but  she  said  no,  my  family  was  looking  for 
me.  Then  she  told  me  that  a  gentleman  came  to 
the  house  who  spoke  with  a  foreign  accent,  and  he 
asked  Barberin  what  had  become  of  the  little  baby 
that  he  had  found  many  years  ago  in  Paris.  Bar- 
berin asked  him  what  business  that  was  of  his. 
This  answer  was  just  like  Barberin  would  give. 

"  You  know  from  the  bakehouse  one  can  hear 
everything  that  is  said  in  the  kitchen,"  said  Mother 
Barberin,  "  and  when  I  knew  that  they  were  talk- 
ing about  you,  I  naturally  listened.  I  got  nearer 
and  then  I  trod  on  a  twig  of  wood  that  broke.' 

"  *  Oh,  we're  not  alone,'  said  the  gentleman  to 
Barberin. 

" '  Yes,  we  are ;  that's  only  my  wife,'  he  replied. 
The  gentleman  then  said  it  was  very  warm  in 
the  kitchen  and  that  they  could  talk  better  outside. 
They  went  out  and  it  was  three  hours  later  when 
Barberin  came  back  alone.  I  tried  to  make  him 


290 NOBODY'S  BOY 

tell  me  everything,  but  the  only  thing  he  would 
say  was  that  this  man  was  looking  for  you,  but 
that  he  was  not  your  father,  and  that  he  had  given 
him  one  hundred  francs.  Probably  he's  had  more 
since.  From  this,  and  the  fine  clothes  you  wore 
when  he  found  you,  we  think  your  parents  must  be 
rich. 

"  Then  Jerome  said  he  had  to  go  off  to  Paris," 
she  continued,  "to  find  the  musician  who  hired 
you.  This  musician  said  that  a  letter  sent  to  Rue 
Mouffetard  to  a  man  named  Garofoli  would  reach 
him." 

"  And  haven't  you  heard  from  Barberin  since  he 
went?"  I  asked,  surprised  that  he  had  sent  no 
news. 

"  Not  a  word,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  even  know 
where  he  is  living  in  the  city." 

Mattia  came  in  just  then.  I  told  him  excitedly 
that  I  had  a  family,  and  that  my  parents  were 
looking  for  me.  He  said  he  was  pleased  for  me, 
but  he  did  not  seem  to  share  my  joy  and  enthu- 
siasm. I  slept  little  that  night.  Mother  Barberin 
had  told  me  to  start  off  to  Paris  and  find  Barberin 
at  once  and  not  delay  my  parent's  joy  at  finding 
me.  I  had  hoped  that  I  could  spend  several  days 
with  her,  and  yet  I  felt  that  she  was  right.  I 
would  have  to  see  Lise  before  going.  That  could 
be  managed,  for  we  could  go  to  Paris  by  way  of 
the  canal.  As  Lise's  uncle  kept  the  locks  and  lived 
in  a  cottage  on  the  banks,  we  could  stop  and  see 
her. 


FRIENDSHIP  THAT  IS  TRUE    291 

I  spent  that  day  with  Mother  Barberin,  and  in 
the  evening  we  discussed  what  I  would  do  for  her 
when  I  was  rich.  She  was  to  have  all  the  things 
she  wanted.  There  was  not  a  wish  of  hers  that 
should  not  be  gratified  when  I  had  money. 

"  The  cow  that  you  have  given  me  in  your  poor 
days  will  be  more  to  me  than  anything  you 
can  give  me  when  you're  rich,  Eemi,"  she  said 
fondly. 

The  next  day,  after  bidding  dear  Mother  Bar- 
berin a  loving  farewell,  we  started  to  walk  along 
the  banks  of  the  canal.  Mattia  was  very  thought- 
ful. I  knew  what  was  the  matter.  He  was  sorry 
that  I  had  rich  parents.  As  though  that  would 
make  any  difference  in  our  friendship !  I  told  him 
that  he  should  go  to  college  and  that  he  should 
study  music  with  the  very  best  masters,  but  he 
shook  his  head  sadly.  I  told  him  that  he  should 
live  with  me  as  my  brother,  and  that  my  parents 
would  love  him  just  the  same  because  he  was  my 
friend.  But  still  he  shook  his  head. 

In  the  meantime,  as  I  had  not  my  rich  parents' 
money  to  spend,  we  had  to  play  in  all  the  villages 
through  which  we  passed  to  get  money  for  our 
food.  And  I  also  wanted  to  make  some  money  to 
buy  a  present  for  Lise.  Mother  Barberin  had  said 
that  she  valued  the  cow  more  than  anything  I 
could  give  her  when  I  became  rich,  and  perhaps, 
I  thought,  Lise  would  feel  the  same  about  a  gift. 
I  wanted  to  give  her  a  doll.  Fortunately  a  doll 
would  not  cost  so  much  as  a  cow.  The  next  town 


292 NOBODY'S  BOY 

we  came  to  I  bought  her  a  lovely  doll  with  fair 
hair  and  blue  eyes. 

Walking  along  the  banks  of  the  canal  I  often 
thought  of  Mrs.  Milligan  and  Arthur  and  their 
beautiful  barge,  and  wondered  if  we  should  meet 
it  on  the  canal.  But  we  never  saw  it. 

One  evening  we  could  see  in  the  distance  the 
house  where  Lise  lived.  It  stood  amongst  the 
trees  and  seemed  to  be  in  an  atmosphere  of  mist. 
We  could  see  the  window  lit  up  by  the  flames  from 
a  big  fire  inside.  The  reddish  light  fell  across  our 
path  as  we  drew  nearer.  My  heart  beat  quickly. 
I  could  see  them  inside  having  supper.  The  door 
and  the  window  were  shut,  but  there  were  no  cur- 
tains to  the  window,  and  I  looked  in  and  saw  Lise 
sitting  beside  her  aunt.  I  signed  to  Mattia  and 
Capi  to  be  silent,  and  then  taking  my  harp  from 
my  shoulder,  I  put  it  on  the  ground. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  whispered  Mattia,  "  a  serenade. 
What  a  fine  idea !  " 

"  No,  not  you ;  I'll  play  alone." 

I  struck  the  first  notes  of  my  Neapolitan  song. 
I  did  not  sing,  for  I  did  not  want  my  voice  to  be- 
tray me.  As  I  played,  I  looked  at  Lise.  She 
raised  her  head  quickly  and  her  eyes  sparkled. 
Then  I  commenced  to  sing.  She  jumped  from  her 
chair  and  ran  to  the  door.  In  a  moment  she  was 
in  my  arms.  Aunt  Catherine  then  came  out  and 
invited  us  in  to  supper.  Lise  quickly  placed  two 
plates  on  the  table. 


FRIENDSHIP  THAT  IS  TRUE    298 

"If  you  don't  mind,"  I  said,  "will  you  put  a 
third;  we  have  a  little  friend  with  us."  And  I 
pulled  out  the  doll  from  my  bag  and  placed  her 
in  the  chair  next  to  Lise.  The  look  that  she  gave 
me  I  shall  never  forget! 


CHAPTER  XXV 

MOTHER,   BROTHERS  AND  SISTERS 

IP  I  had  not  been  in  a  hurry  to  get  to  Paris  I 
should  have  stayed  a  long  time  with  Lise. 
We  had  so  much  to  say  to  each  other  and  could 
say  so  little  in  the  language  that  we  used.  She 
told  me  with  signs  how  good  her  uncle  and  aunt 
had  been  to  her  and  what  beautiful  rides  she  had 
in  the  barges,  and  I  told  her  how  I  had  nearly  per- 
ished in  the  mine  where  Alexix  worked  and  that 
my  family  were  looking  for  me.  That  was  the 
reason  that  I  was  hurrying  to  Paris  and  that  was 
why  it  had  been  impossible  for  me  to  go  and  see 
Etiennette. 

Naturally  most  of  the  talk  was  about  my  family, 
my  rich  family  and  all  I  would  do  when  I  had 
money.  I  would  make  her  father,  brothers,  sisters, 
and  above  all  herself,  happy.  Lise,  unlike  Mattia, 
was  delighted.  She  quite  believed  that  if  one  had 
money  one  ought  to  be  very  happy,  because,  would 
not  her  father  have  been  happy  if  he  had  only  had 
the  money  to  pay  his  debts?  We  took  long  walks, 
all  three  of  us,  Lise,  Mattia  and  I,  accompanied  by 
the  doll  and  Capi.  I  was  very  happy  those  few 
days.  In  the  evening  we  sat  in  front  of  the  house 

294 


MOTHER,  BROTHERS,  SISTERS     295 

when  it  was  not  too  damp  and  before  the  fireplace 
when  the  mist  was  thick.  I  played  the  harp  and 
Mattia  played  his  violin  or  cornet.  Lise  preferred 
the  harp,  which  made  me  very  proud.  When  the 
time  came  and  we  had  to  separate  and  go  to  bed,  I 
played  and  sang  her  my  Neapolitan  song. 

Yet  we  had  to  part  and  go  on  our  way.  I  told  her 
that  I  would  come  back  for  her  soon.  My  last 
words  to  her  were :  "  I'll  come  and  fetch  you  in  a 
carriage  drawn  by  four  horses." 

And  she  quite  believed  me  and  she  made  a  motion 
as  though  she  were  cracking  a  whip  to  urge  on  the 
horses.  She  also,  the  same  as  I,  could  see  my  riches 
and  my  horses  and  carriages. 

I  was  so  eager  to  get  to  Paris  now  that  if  it  had 
not  been  for  Mattia  I  would  have  stopped  only  to 
collect  what  was  absolutely  necessary  for  our  food. 
We  had  no  cow  to  buy  now,  nor  doll.  It  was  not 
for  me  to  take  money  to  my  rich  parents. 

"  Let  us  get  all  we  can,"  said  Mattia,  forcing  me 
to  take  my  harp,  "  for  we  don't  know  if  we  shall  find 
Barberin  at  once.  One  would  think  that  you  had 
forgotten  that  night  when  you  were  dying  of 
hunger." 

"  Oh,  I  haven't,"  I  said  lightly,  "  but  we're  sure  to 
find  him  at  once.  You  wait." 

"  Yes,  but  I  have  not  forgotten  how  I  leaned  up 
against  the  church  that  day  when  you  found  me. 
Ah,  I  don't  want  to  be  hungry  in  Paris." 

"  We'll  dine  all  the  better  when  we  get  to  my 
parents',"  I  replied. 


296  NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  Well,  let's  work  just  as  though  we  are  buying 
another  cow,"  urged  Mattia. 

This  was  very  wise  advice  but  I  must  admit  that 
I  did  not  sing  with  the  same  spirit.  To  get  the 
money  to  buy  a  cow  for  Mother  Barberin  or  a  doll 
for  Lise  was  quite  a  different  matter. 

"  How  lazy  you'll  be  when  you're  rich,"  said 
Mattia.  The  nearer  we  got  to  Paris  the  gayer  I 
became;  and  the  more  melancholy  grew  Mattia. 
As  I  had  assured  him  that  we  should  not  be  parted  I 
wondered  why  he  should  be  sad  now.  Finally, 
when  we  reached  the  gates  of  Paris,  he  told  me  how 
great  was  his  fear  of  Garofoli,  and  that  if  he  saw 
him  he  knew  that  he  would  take  him  again. 

"  You  know  how  afraid  you  are  of  Barberin,  so 
you  can  imagine  how  I  fear  Garofoli.  If  he's  out  of 
prison  he'll  be  sure  to  catch  me.  Oh,  my  poor  head ; 
how  he  used  to  bang  it !  And  then  he  will  part  us ; 
of  course  he'd  like  to  have  you  as  one  of  his  pupils, 
but  he  could  not  force  you  to  stay,  but  he  has  a  right 
to  me.  He's  my  uncle." 

I  had  not  thought  of  Garofoli.  I  arranged  with 
Mattia  that  I  should  go  to  the  various  places  that 
Mother  Barberin  had  mentioned  as  to  where  I 
might  find  Barberin.  Then  I  would  go  to  the  Kue 
Mouffetard  and  after  that  he  should  meet  me  at 
seven  o'clock  outside  the  Notre  Dame  Cathedral. 

We  parted  as  though  we  were  never  going  to  meet 
again.  Mattia  went  in  one  direction,  I  in  another. 
I  had  written  down  on  paper  the  names  of  the  places 
where  Barberin  had  lived  before.  I  went  first  to 


MOTHER,  BROTHERS,  SISTERS    297 

one  place,  then  to  another.  At  one  lodging  house 
they  told  me  that  he  had  lived  there  four  years  ago 
but  that  he  had  not  been  there  since.  The  landlord 
told  me  that  he'd  like  to  catch  the  rogue,  for  he  owed 
him  one  week's  rent.  I  grew  very  despondent. 
There  was  only  one  place  left  for  me  to  inquire ;  that 
was  at  a  restaurant.  The  man  who  kept  the  place 
said  that  he  had  not  seen  him  for  a  very  long  time, 
but  one  of  the  customers  sitting  eating  at  a  table 
called  out  that  he  had  been  living  at  the  Hotel  du 
Cantal  of  late. 

Before  going  to  the  Hotel  du  Cantal  I  went  to 
Garofoli's  place  to  see  if  I  could  find  out  something 
about  him  so  that  I  could  take  back  some  news  to 
poor  Mattia.  When  I  reached  the  yard  I  saw,  as  on 
my  first  visit,  the  same  old  man  hanging  up  dirty 
rags  outside  the  door. 

"  Has  Garofoli  returned?  "  I  asked. 

The  old  man  looked  at  me  without  replying,  then 
began  to  cough.  I  could  see  that  he  would  not  tell 
me  anything  unless  I  let  him  know  that  /  knew  all 
about  Garofoli. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  he  is  still  in  prison?  "  I 
exclaimed.  "  Why,  I  thought  he'd  got  out  long 
ago." 

"  No,  he's  got  another  three  months  yet." 

Garofoli  three  more  months  in  prison!  Mattia 
could  breathe.  I  left  the  horrible  yard  as  quickly 
as  possible  and  hurried  off  to  the  Hotel  du  Cantal. 
I  was  full  of  hope  and  joy  and  quite  disposed  to 
think  kindly  of  Barberin;  if  it  had  not  been  for 


298 NOBODY'S  BOY 

Barberin,  I  might  have  died  of  cold  and  hunger 
when  I  was  a  baby.  It  was  true  he  had  taken  me 
from  Mother  Barberin  to  sell  me  to  a  stranger,  but 
then  he  had  no  liking  for  me  and  perhaps  he  was 
forced  to  do  it  for  the  money.  After  all  it  was 
through  him  that  I  was  finding  my  parents.  So 
now  I  ought  not  to  harbor  any  bitterness  against 
him. 

I  soon  reached  the  Hotel  du  Cantal  which  was 
only  a  hotel  in  name,  being  nothing  better  than  a 
miserable  lodging  house. 

"  I  want  to  see  a  man  named  Barberin ;  he  comes 
from  Chavanon,"  I  said  to  a  dirty  old  woman  who 
sat  at  a  desk.  She  was  very  deaf  and  asked  me  to 
repeat  what  I  had  said. 

"Do  you  know  a  man  named  Barberin?"  I 
shouted. 

Then  she  threw  up  her  hands  to  heaven  so 
abruptly  that  the  cat  sleeping  on  her  knees  sprang 
down  in  terror. 

"  Alas !  Alas !  "  she  cried,  then  she  added :  "  Are 
you  the  boy  he  was  looking  for?  " 

"Oh,  you  know?"  I  cried  excitedly.  "Well, 
where's  Barberin?  " 

"  Dead,"  she  replied,  laconically. 

I  leaned  on  my  harp. 

"  Dead !  "  I  cried  loud  enough  for  her  to  hear.  I 
was  dazed.  How  should  I  find  my  parents  now? 

"You're  the  boy  they're  looking  for;  I'm  sure 
you  are,"  said  the  old  woman  again. 


MOTHER,  BROTHERS,  SISTERS     299 

"Yes,  yes,  I'm  the  boy.  Where's  my  family? 
Can  you  tell  me?" 

"  I  don't  know  any  more  than  just  what  I've  told 
you,  my  boy;  I  should  say  my  young  gentleman." 

"  What  did  Barberin  say  about  ray  parents?  Oh, 
do  tell  me,"  I  said  imploringly. 

She  threw  her  arms  up  towards  heaven. 

"  Ah,  if  that  isn't  a  story !  " 

"  Well,  tell  it  me.     What  is  it?  " 

At  this  moment  a  woman  who  looked  like  a 
servant  came  forward.  The  mistress  of  the  Hotel 
du  Cantal  turned  to  her :  "  If  this  isn't  an  affair ! 
This  boy  here,  this  young  gentleman,  is  the  man 
Barberin  talked  so  much  about." 

"  But  didn't  Barberin  speak  to  you  about  my  fam- 
ily? "I  asked. 

"  I  should  say  so  —  more  than  a  hundred  times. 
A  very  rich  family  it  is,  that  you've  got,  my  boy,  my 
young  gentleman." 

"And  where  do  they  live  and  what  is  their 
name?  " 

"  Barberin  wouldn't  tell  us  anything.  He  was 
that  mysterious.  He  wanted  to  get  all  the  reward 
for  himself." 

"  Didn't  he  leave  any  papers?  " 

"  No,  nothing  except  one  that  said  he  came  from 
Chavanon.  If  we  hadn't  found  that,  we  couldn't 
have  let  his  wife  know  he's  dead." 

"  Oh,  you  did  let  her  know?  " 

"  Sure,  why  not?  " 


300 NOBODY'S  BOY 

I  could  learn  nothing  from  the  old  woman.  I 
turned  slowly  towards  the  door. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  she  asked. 

"  Back  to  my  friend." 

"  Ah,  you  have  a  friend !    Does  he  live  in  Paris?  " 

"We  got  to  Paris  only  this  morning." 

"Well,  if  you  haven't  a  place  to  lodge  in,  why 
don't  you  come  here?  You  will  be  well  taken  care 
of  and  it's  an  honest  house.  If  your  family  get 
tired  of  waiting  to  hear  from  Barberin  they  may 
come  here  and  then  they'll  find  you.  What  I  say  is 
for  your  own  interest.  What  age  is  your  friend?  " 

"  He  is  a  little  younger  than  I." 

"Just  think!  two  boys  on  the  streets  of  Paris! 
You  could  get  into  such  a  bad  place;  now  this  is 
real  respectable  on  account  of  the  locality." 

The  Hotel  du  Cantal  was  one  of  the  dirtiest  lodg- 
ing houses  that  I  had  ever  seen  and  I  had  seen  some 
pretty  dirty  ones !  But  what  the  old  woman  said 
was  worth  considering,  besides  we  could  not  be  par- 
ticular. I  had  not  found  my  family  in  their  beauti- 
ful Paris  mansion  yet.  Mattia  had  been  right  to 
want  to  get  all  the  money  we  could  on  our  way  to 
the  city.  What  should  we  have  done  if  we  had  not 
our  seventeen  francs  in  our  pockets? 

"  How  much  will  you  charge  for  a  room  for  my 
friend  and  myself?  "  I  asked. 

"  Ten  cents  a  day.    .That's  not  much." 

"  Well,  we'll  come  back  to-night." 

"  Come  back  early ;  Paris  is  a  bad  place  at  night 
for  boys,"  she  called  after  me. 


MOTHER,  BROTHERS,  SISTERS    301 

Night  was  falling.  The  street  lamps  were  lit.  I 
had  a  long  way  to  walk  to  the  Cathedral,  where  I 
was  to  meet  Mattia,  All  my  high  spirits  had  van- 
ished. I  was  very  tired  and  all  around  me  seemed 
gloomy.  In  this  great  Paris  full  of  light  and  noise 
I  felt  so  utterly  alone.  Would  I  ever  find  my  own 
people?  Was  I  ever  to  see  my  real  mother  and  my 
real  father?  When  I  reached  the  Cathedral  I  had 
still  twenty  minutes  to  wait  for  Mattia.  I  felt  this 
night  that  I  needed  his  friendship  more  than  ever. 
What  a  comfort  it  was  to  think  that  I  was  going  to 
see  him  so  gay,  so  kind,  such  a  friend ! 

A  little  before  seven  I  heard  a  quick  bark,  then 
out  of  the  shadows  jumped  Capi !  He  sprang  onto 
my  knees  and  licked  me  with  his  soft  wet  tongue.  I 
hugged  him  in  my  arms  and  kissed  his  cold  nose. 
It  was  not  long  before  Mattia  appeared.  In  a  few 
words  I  told  him  that  Barberin  was  dead  and  that 
there  was  now  little  hope  that  I  could  ever  find  my 
family.  Then  he  gave  me  all  the  sympathy  of  which 
I  was  in  need.  He  tried  to  console  me  and  told  me 
not  to  despair.  He  wished  as  sincerely  as  I  that  we 
could  find  my  parents. 

We  returned  to  the  Hotel  du  Cantal.  The  next 
morning  I  wrote  to  Mother  Barberin  to  express  my 
grief  for  her  loss  and  to  ask  her  if  she  had  had  any 
news  from  her  husband  before  he  died.  By  return 
mail  she  sent  me  word  that  her  husband  had  written 
to  her  from  the  hospital,  where  they  had  taken  him, 
and  said  that  if  he  did  not  get  better  she  was  to 
write  to  Greth  and  Galley's,  Lincoln  Square,  Lon- 


302 NOBODY'S  BOY 

don,  for  they  were  the  lawyers  who  were  looking  for 
me.  He  told  her  that  she  was  not  to  take  any  steps 
until  she  was  sure  that  he  was  dead. 

"We  must  go  to  London,"  said  Mattia,  when  I 
had  finished  reading  the  letter  that  the  priest  had 
written  for  her.  "  If  the  lawyers  are  English,  that 
shows  that  your  parents  are  English." 

"  Oh,  I'd  rather  be  the  same  as  Lise  and  the 
others.  But,"  I  added,  "  if  I'm  English  I'll  be  the 
same  as  Mrs.  Milligan  and  Arthur." 

"  I'd  rather  you  were  Italian,"  said  Mattia, 

In  a  few  minutes  our  baggage  was  ready  and  we 
were  off.  It  took  us  eight  days  to  hike  from  Paris 
to  Bologne,  stopping  at  the  principal  towns  en 
route.  When  we  reached  Bologne  we  had  thirty- 
two  francs  in  our  purse.  We  took  passage  on  a 
cargo  boat  that  was  going  the  next  day  to  London. 
What  a  rough  journey  we  had!  Poor  Mattia  de- 
clared that  he  would  never  go  on  the  sea  again. 
When  at  last  we  were  steaming  up  the  Thames  I 
begged  him  to  get  up  and  see  the  wonderful  sights, 
but  he  implored  me  to  let  him  alone.  At  last  the 
engine  stopped  and  the  ropes  were  thrown  to  the 
ground,  and  we  landed  in  London. 

I  knew  very  little  English,  but  Mattia  had  picked 
up  quite  a  great  deal  from  an  Englishman  who  had 
worked  with  him  at  the  Gassot  Circus.  When  we 
landed  he  at  once  asked  a  policeman  to  direct  us  to 
Lincoln  Square.  It  seemed  to  be  a  very  long  way. 
Many  times  we  thought  that  we  had  lost  ourselves 
but  again  upon  making  inquiries  we  found  that  we 


MOTHER,  BROTHERS,  SISTERS     303 

were  going  in  the  right  direction.  Finally  we 
reached  Temple  Bar  and  a  few  steps  further  we 
came  to  Green  Square. 

My  heart  beat  so  quickly  when  we  stood  before 
the  door  of  Greth  and  Galley's  office  that  I  had  to 
ask  Mattia  to  wait  a  moment  until  I  had  recovered 
myself.  After  Mattia  had  stated  to  the  clerk  my 
name  and  my  business,  we  were  shown  at  once  into 
the  private  office  of  the  head  of  the  firm,  Mr.  Greth. 
Fortunately  this  gentleman  spoke  French,  so  I  was 
able  to  speak  to  him  myself.  He  questioned  me 
upon  every  detail  of  my  life.  My  answers  evidently 
convinced  him  that  I  was  the  boy  he  was  looking  for, 
for  he  told  me  that  I  had  a  family  living  in  London 
and  that  he  would  send  me  to  them  at  once. 

"  One  moment,  sir.  Have  I  a  father?  "  I  asked, 
scarcely  able  to  say  the  word  "  father." 

"  Yes,  not  only  a  father,  but  a  mother,  brother* 
and  sisters,"  he  replied. 

"Oh  .  .  ." 

He  touched  a  bell  and  a  clerk  appeared  whom  he 
told  to  take  charge  of  us. 

"  Oh,  I  had  forgotten,"  said  Mr.  Greth,  "  your 
name  is  Driscoll;  your  father's  name  is  Mr.  John 
Driscoll." 

In  spite  of  Mr.  Greth's  ugly  face  I  think  I  could 
have  jumped  at  him  and  hugged  him  if  he  had  given 
me  time,  but  with  his  hand  he  indicated  the  door 
and  we  followed  the  clerk. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

BITTER  DISAPPOINTMENT 

WHEN  we  got  to  the  street  the  clerk  hailed  a 
cab  and  told  us  to  jump  in.  The  strange 
looking  vehicle,  with  the  coachman  sitting  on  a  box 
at  the  back  of  a  hood  that  covered  us,  I  learned 
later  was  a  hansom  cab.  Mattia  and  I  were 
huddled  in  a  corner  with  Capi  between  our  legs. 
The  clerk  took  up  the  rest  of  the  seat.  Mattia  had 
heard  him  tell  the  coachman  to  drive  us  to  Bethnal- 
Green.  The  driver  seemed  none  too  anxious  to  take 
us  there.  Mattia  and  I  thought  it  was  probably  on 
account  of  the  distance.  We  both  knew  what 
"  Green  "  meant  in  English,  and  Bethnal-Green  un- 
doubtedly was  the  name  of  the  park  where  my 
people  lived.  For  a  long  time  the  cab  rolled 
through  the  busy  streets  of  London.  It  was  such  a 
long  way  that  I  thought  perhaps  their  estate  was 
situated  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city.  The  word 
"  green  "  made  us  think  that  it  might  be  in  the 
country.  But  nothing  around  us  announced  the 
country.  We  were  in  a  very  thickly  populated 
quarter;  the  black  mud  splashed  our  cab  as  we 
drove  along;  then  we  turned  into  a  much  poorer 
part  of  the  city  and  every  now  and  again  the  cab- 

304 


BITTER  DISAPPOINTMENT     805 

man  pulled  up  as  though  he  did  not  know  his  way. 
At  last  he  stopped  altogether  and  through  the  little 
window  of  the  hansom  a  discussion  took  place  be- 
tween Greth  &  Galley's  clerk  and  the  bewildered 
cabman.  From  what  Mattia  could  learn  the  man 
said  that  it  was  no  use,  he  could  not  find  his  way, 
and  he  asked  the  clerk  which  direction  he  should 
take.  The  clerk  replied  that  he  did  not  know  for 
he  had  never  been  in  that  thieves'  locality  before. 
We  both  caught  the  word  "  thieves."  Then  the 
clerk  gave  some  money  to  the  coachman  and  told  us 
to  get  out  of  the  cab.  The  man  grumbled  at  his  fare 
and  then  turned  round  and  drove  off.  We  were 
standing  now  in  a  muddy  street  before  what  the 
English  call  a  gin  palace.  Our  guide  looked  about 
him  in  disgust,  then  entered  the  swing-doors  of  the 
gin  palace.  We  followed.  Although  we  were  in  a 
miserable  part  of  the  city  I  had  never  seen  anything 
more  luxurious.  There  were  gilt  framed  mirrors 
everywhere,  glass  chandeliers  and  a  magnificent 
counter  that  shone  like  silver.  Yet  the  people  who 
filled  this  place  were  filthy  and  in  rags.  Our  guide 
gulped  down  a  drink  standing  before  the  beautiful 
counter,  then  asked  the  man  who  had  served  him  if 
he  could  direct  him  to  the  place  he  wanted  to  find. 
Evidently  he  got  the  information  he  required  for  he 
hurried  out  again  through  the  swing-doors,  we  fol- 
lowing close  on  his  heels.  The  streets  through 
which  we  walked  now  were  even  narrower  and  from 
one  house  across  to  another  were  swung  wash  lines 
from  which  dirty  rags  were  hanging.  The  women 


806 NOBODY'S  BOY 

who  sat  in  their  doorways  were  pale  and  their 
matted  fair  hair  hung  loose  over  their  shoulders. 
The  children  were  almost  naked  and  the  few  clothes 
that  they  did  wear  were  but  rags.  In  the  alley  were 
some  pigs  wallowing  in  the  stagnant  water  from 
which  a  fetid  odor  arose.  Our  guide  stopped.  Evi- 
dently he  had  lost  his  way.  But  at  this  moment  a 
policeman  appeared.  The  clerk  spoke  to  him  and 
the  officer  told  him  he  would  show  him  the  way. . . . 
We  followed  the  policeman  down  more  narrow 
streets.  At  last  we  stopped  at  a  yard  in  the  middle 
of  which  was  a  little  pond. 

"  This  is  Red  Lion  Court,"  said  the  officer. 

Why  were  we  stopping  there?  Could  it  be  pos- 
sible that  my  parents  lived  in  this  place?  The  po- 
liceman knocked  at  the  door  of  a  wooden  hut  and 
our  guide  thanked  him.  So  we  had  arrived.  Mat- 
tia  took  my  hand  and  gently  pressed  it.  I  pressed 
his.  We  understood  one  another.  I  wras  as  in  a 
dream  when  the  door  was  opened  and  we  found 
ourselves  in  a  room  with  a  big  fire  burning  in  the 
grate. 

Before  the  fire  in  a  large  cane  chair  sat  an  old 
man  with  a  white  beard,  and  his  head  covered  with  a 
black  skull  cap.  At  a  table  sat  a  man  of  about  forty 
and  a  woman  about  six  years  his  junior.  She  must 
have  been  very  pretty  once  but  now  her  eyes  had  a 
glassy  stare  and  her  manners  were  listless.  Then 
there  were  four  children  —  two  boys  and  two  girls 
—  all  very  fair  like  their  mother.  The  eldest  boy 
was  about  eleven,  the  youngest  girl,  scarcely  three. 


BITTER  DISAPPOINTMENT     807 

I  did  not  know  what  the  clerk  was  saying  to  the 
man,  I  only  caught  the  name  "  Driscoll,"  my  name, 
so  the  lawyer  had  said.  All  eyes  were  turned  on 
Mattia  and  me,  only  the  baby  girl  paid  attention  to 
Capi. 

"  Which  one  is  Remi?  "  asked  the  man  in  French. 

"  I  am,"  I  said,  taking  a  step  forward. 

"  Then  come  and  kiss  your  father,  my  boy." 

When  I  had  thought  of  this  moment  I  had  imag- 
ined that  I  should  be  overwhelmed  with  happiness 
and  spring  into  my  father's  arms,  but  I  felt  nothing 
of  the  kind.  I  went  up  and  kissed  my  father. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  there's  your  grandfather,  your 
mother,  your  brothers  and  sisters." 

I  went  up  to  my  mother  first  and  put  my  arms 
about  her.  She  let  me  kiss  her  but  she  did  not  re- 
turn my  caress;  she  only  said  two  or  three  words 
which  I  did  not  understand. 

"  Shake  hands  with  your  grandfather,"  said  my 
father,  "  and  go  gently ;  he's  paralyzed." 

I  also  shook  hands  with  my  brothers  and  my 
eldest  sister.  I  wanted  to  take  the  little  one  in  my 
arms  but  she  was  too  occupied  with  Capi  and  pushed 
me  away.  As  I  went  from  one  to  the  other  I  was 
angry  with  myself.  Why  could  I  not  feel  any 
pleasure  at  having  found  my  family  at  last  I  had 
a  father,  a  mother,  brothers,  sisters  and  a  grand- 
father. I  had  longed  for  this  moment,  I  had  been 
mad  with  joy  in  thinking  that  I,  like  other  boys, 
would  have  a  family  that  I  could  call  my  own  to  love 
me  and  whom  I  could  love.  .  And  now  I  was 


808 NOBODY'S  BOY 

staring  at  my  family  curiously,  finding  nothing  in 
my  heart  to  say  to  them,  not  a  word  of  affection. 
Was  I  a  monster?  If  I  had  found  my  parents  in  a 
palace  instead  of  in  a  hovel  should  I  have  had  more 
affection  for  them?  I  felt  ashamed  at  this  thought 
Going  over  again  to  my  mother  I  put  my  arms  round 
her  and  kissed  her  full  on  the  lips.  Evidently  she 
did  not  understand  what  made  me  do  this,  for  in- 
stead of  returning  my  kisses  she  looked  at  me  in  a 
listless  manner,  then  turning  to  her  husband,  my 
father,  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  said  some- 
thing that  I  could  not  understand  but  which  made 
him  laugh.  Her  indifference  and  my  father's  laugh 
went  right  to  my  heart.  It  did  not  seem  to  me  that 
my  affection  should  have  been  received  in  such  a 
way. 

"Who  is  he?"  asked  my  father,  pointing  to 
Mattia.  I  told  him  that  Mattia  was  my  dearest 
friend  and  how  much  I  owed  him. 

"  Good,"  said  my  father ;  "  would  he  like  to  stay 
and  see  the  country?  "  I  was  about  to  answer  for 
Mattia,  but  he  spoke  first. 

"  That's  just  what  I  want,"  he  exclaimed. 

My  father  then  asked  why  Barberin  had  not  come 
with  me.  I  told  him  that  he  was  dead.  He  seemed 
pleased  to  hear  this.  He  repeated  it  to  my  mother, 
who  also  seemed  pleased.  Why  were  they  both 
pleased  that  Barberin  was  dead? 

"  You  must  be  rather  surprised  that  we  have  not 
searched  for  you  for  thirteen  years,"  said  my  father, 


BITTER  DISAPPOINTMENT     809 

"  and  then  suddenly  to  go  off  and  look  up  this  man 
who  found  you  when  you  were  a  baby." 

I  told  him  that  I  was  very  surprised,  and  that  I'd 
like  to  know  about  it. 

"  Come  near  the  fire  then  and  I'll  tell  you  all 
about  it" 

I  flung  the  bag  from  my  shoulders  and  took  the 
chair  that  he  offered  me.  As  I  stretched  out  my 
legs,  wet,  and  covered  with  mud,  to  the  fire  my 
grandfather  spat  on  one  side,  like  an  old  cat  that  is 
annoyed. 

"Don't  pay  any  attention  to  him,"  said  my  fa- 
ther ;  "  the  old  chap  doesn't  like  any  one  to  sit  be- 
fore his  fire,  but  you  needn't  mind  him,  if  you're 
cold." 

I  was  surprised  to  hear  any  one  speak  like  this  of 
an  old  man.  I  kept  my  legs  under  my  chair,  for  I 
thought  that  attention  should  be  paid  to  him. 

"  You  are  my  eldest  son  now,"  said  my  father ; 
"  you  were  born  a  year  after  my  marriage  with  your 
mother.  When  I  married  there  was  a  young  girl 
who  thought  that  I  was  going  to  marry  her,  and  out 
of  revenge  she  stole  you  from  us  when  you  were  six 
months  old.  We  searched  everywhere  for  you  but 
we  did  not  go  so  far  as  Paris.  We  thought  that  you 
were  dead  until  three  months  ago  when  this  woman 
was  dying  she  confessed  the  truth.  I  went  over  to 
France  at  once  and  the  police  in  that  locality  where 
you  had  been  left,  told  me  that  you  had  been  adopted 
by  a  mason  iiamer  Barberin  who  lived  at  Chavanon. 


810 NOBODY'S  BOY 

I  found  him  and  he  told  me  that  he  had  lo;v<c<j.  you 
to  a  musician  named  Vitalis  and  that  you  were 
tramping  through  France.  I  could  not  stay  over 
there  any  longer,  but  I  left  Barberin  some  money 
and  told  him  to  search  for  you,  and  when  he  had 
news  to  write  to  Greth  and  Galley.  I  did  not  give 
him  my  address  here,  because  we  are  only  in  Lon- 
don during  the  winter;  the  rest  of  the  year  we 
travel  through  England  and  Scotland.  We  are 
peddlers  by  trade,  and  I  have  my  own  caravans. 
There,  boy,  that  is  how  it  is  you  have  come  back 
to  us  after  thirteen  years.  You  may  feel  a  little 
timid  at  first  because  you  can't  understand  us,  but 
you'll  soon  pick  up  English  and  be  able  to  talk  to 
your  brothers  and  sisters.  It  won't  be  long  before 
you're  used  to  us." 

Yes,  of  course  I  should  get  used  to  them;  were 
they  not  my  own  people?  The  fine  baby  linen,  the 
beautiful  clothes  had  not  spoken  the  truth.  But 
what  did  that  matter!  Affection  was  worth  more 
than  riches.  It  was  not  money  that  I  pined  for,  but 
to  have  affection,  a  family  and  a  home.  While  my 
father  was  talking  to  me  they  had  set  the  table  for 
supper.  A  large  joint  of  roast  beef  with  potatoes 
round  it  was  placed  in  the  middle  of  the  table. 

"Are  you  hungry,  boys?"  asked  my  father,  ad- 
dressing Mattia  and  myself.  Mattia  showed  his 
white  teeth. 

"  Well,  sit  down  to  table." 

But  before  sitting  down  he  pushed  my  grand- 
father's cane  rocker  up  to  the  table.  Then  taking 


BITTER  DISAPPOINTMENT     811 

his  own  place  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  he  com- 
menced to  cut  the  roast  beef  and  gave  each  one  a 
fine  big  slice  and  some  potatoes. 

Although  I  had  not  been  brought  up  exactly  on 
the  principle  of  good  breeding,  I  noticed  that  my 
brothers  and  sisters  behaved  very  badly  at  table; 
they  ate  more  often  with  their  fingers,  sticking 
them  into  the  gravy  and  licking  them  without  my 
father  and  mother  seeming  to  notice  them.  As  to 
my  grandfather,  he  gave  his  whole  attention  to  what 
was  before  him,  and  the  one  hand  that  he  was  able 
to  use  went  continually  from  his  plate  to  his  mouth. 
When  he  let  a  piece  fall  from  his  shaking  fingers  my 
brothers  and  sisters  laughed. 

I  thought  that  we  should  spend  the  evening  to- 
gether round  the  fire,  but  my  father  said  that  he  was 
expecting  friends,  and  told  us  to  go  to  bed.  Beckon- 
ing to  Mattia  and  me  he  took  a  candle  and  went  out 
to  a  stable  that  led  from  the  room  where  we  had  been 
eating.  In  this  stable  were  two  big  caravans.  He 
opened  the  door  of  one  and  we  saw  two  small  beds, 
one  above  the  other. 

"  There  you  are,  boyi,  there  are  your  beds,"  he 
•aid.  "  Sleep  well." 

Such  was  the  welcome  Into  my  family. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

A   DISTRESSING   DISCOVERY 

MY  father  left  the  candle  with  us,  but  locked 
the  caravan  on  the  outside.  We  got  into 
bed  as  quickly  as  possible,  without  chatting,  as  was 
our  habit.  Mattia  did  not  seem  to  want  to  talk  any 
more  than  I  and  I  was  pleased  that  he  was  silent. 
We  blew  the  candle  out,  but  I  found  it  impossible  to 
go  to  sleep.  I  thought  over  all  that  had  passed, 
turning  over  and  over  in  my  narrow  bed.  I  could 
hear  Mattia,  who  occupied  the  berth  above  mine, 
turn  over  restlessly  also.  He  could  not  sleep  any 
more  than  I. 

Hours  passed.  As  it  grew  later  a  vague  fear  op- 
pressed me.  I  felt  uneasy,  but  I  could  not  under- 
stand why  it  was  that  I  felt  so.  Of  what  was  I 
afraid?  Not  of  sleeping  in  a  caravan  even  in  this 
vile  part  of  London !  How  many  times  in  my  vaga- 
bond life  had  I  spent  the  night  less  protected  than 
I  was  at  this  moment !  I  knew  that  I  was  sheltered 
from  all  danger  and  yet  I  was  oppressed  with  a  fear 
that  amounted  almost  to  terror. 

The  hours  passed  one  after  the  other;  suddenly 
I  heard  a  noise  at  the  stable  door  which  opened 
onto  another  street.  Then  came  several  regular 
knocks  at  intervals.  Then  a  light  penetrated  our 

912 


A  DISTRESSING  DISCOVERY    813 

caravan.  I  glanced  hastily  round  in  surprise  and 
Capi,  who  slept  beside  my  bed,  woke  up  with  a 
growl.  I  then  saw  that  this  light  came  in  through 
a  little  window  of  the  caravan  against  which  our 
berths  were  placed,  and  which  I  had  not  noticed 
when  going  to  bed  because  there  was  a  curtain  hang- 
ing over  it.  The  upper  part  of  this  window  touched 
Mattia's  bed  and  the  lower  part  touched  mine. 
Afraid  that  Capi  might  wake  up  all  the  house,  I 
put  my  hand  over  his  mouth,  then  looked  outside. 
My  father  had  entered  the  stable  and  quietly 
opened  the  door  on  the  other  side,  then  he  closed 
it  again  in  the  same  cautious  manner  after  admit- 
ting two  men  heavily  laden  with  bundles  which  they 
carried  on  their  shoulders.  Then  he  placed  his  fin- 
ger on  his  lip,  and  with  the  other  hand  which  held 
the  lantern,  he  pointed  to  the  caravan  in  which  we 
were  sleeping.  I  was  about  to  call  out  that  they 
need  not  mind  us,  but  I  was  afraid  I  should  wake  up 
Mattia,  who  now,  I  thought,  was  sleeping  quietly, 
so  I  kept  still.  My  father  helped  the  two  men 
unload  their  bundles,  then  he  disappeared,  but  soon 
he  returned  with  my  mother.  During  his  absence 
the  men  had  opened  their  baggage.  There  were 
hats,  underclothes,  stockings,  gloves,  etc.  Evi- 
dently these  men  were  merchants  who  had  come  to 
sell  their  goods  to  my  parents.  My  father  took 
each  object  and  examined  it  by  the  light  of  the  lan- 
tern and  passed  it  on  to  my  mother,  who  with  a 
little  pair  of  scissors  cut  off  the  tickets  and  put 
them  in  her  pocket  This  appeared  strange  to  me, 


814 NOBODY'S  BOY 

as  also  the  hour  that  they  had  chosen  for  this 
sale. 

While  my  mother  was  examining  the  goods  my 
father  spoke  to  the  men  in  a  whisper.  If  I  had 
known  English  a  little  better  I  should  perhaps  have 
caught  what  he  said,  but  all  I  could  hear  was  the 
word  "  police,"  that  was  said  several  times  and  for 
that  reason  caught  my  ear. 

When  all  the  goods  had  been  carefully  noted, 
my  parents  and  the  two  men  went  into  the  house, 
and  again  our  caravan  was  in  darkness.  They  had 
evidently  gone  inside  to  settle  the  bill.  I  wanted 
to  convince  myself  that  what  I  had  seen  was  quite 
natural,  yet  despite  my  desire  I  could  not  believe 
so.  Why  had  not  these  men  who  had  come  to  see 
my  parents  entered  by  the  other  door?  Why  did 
they  talk  of  the  police  in  whispers  as  though  they 
were  afraid  of  being  heard  outside?  Why  had  my 
mother  cut  off  the  tickets  after  she  had  bought  the 
goods?  I  could  not  drive  these  thoughts  from  my 
mind.  After  a  time  a  light  again  filled  our  cara- 
van. I  looked  out  this  time  in  spite  of  myself.  I 
told  myself  that  I  ought  not  to  look,  and  yet  ...  I 
looked.  I  told  myself  that  it  was  better  that  I 
should  not  know,  and  yet  I  wanted  to  see. 

My  father  and  mother  were  alone.  While  my 
mother  quickly  made  a  bundle  of  the  goods,  my 
father  swept  a  corner  of  the  stable.  Under  the  dry 
sand  that  he  heaped  up  there  was  a  trap  door.  He 
lifted  it.  By  then  my  mother  had  finished  tying  up 
the  bundles  and  my  father  took  them  and  lowered 


A  DISTRESSING  DISCOVERY    815 

them  through  the  trap  to  a  cellar  below,  my  mother 
holding  the  lantern  to  light  him.  Then  he  shut 
the  trap  door  and  swept  the  sand  over  it  again. 
Over  the  sand  they  both  strewed  wisps  of  straw  as 
on  the  rest  of  the  stable  floor.  Then  they  went  out. 

At  the  moment  when  they  softly  closed  the  door 
it  seemed  to  me  that  Mattia  moved  in  his  bed  and 
that  he  lay  back  on  his  pillow.  Had  he  seen?  I 
did  not  dare  ask  him.  From  head  to  foot  I  was  in 
a  cold  perspiration.  I  remained  in  this  state  all 
night  long.  A  cock  crowed  at  daybreak ;  then  only 
did  I  drop  off  to  sleep. 

The  noise  of  the  key  being  turned  in  the  door  of 
our  caravan  the  next  morning  woke  me.  Thinking 
that  it  was  my  father  who  had  come  to  tell  us  that 
it  was  time  to  get  up,  I  closed  my  eyes  so  as  not  to 
see  him. 

"  It  was  your  brother,"  said  Mattia ;  "  he  has  un- 
locked the  door  and  he's  gone  now." 

We  dressed.  Mattia  did  not  ask  me  if  I  had 
slept  well,  neither  did  I  put  the  question  to  him. 
Once  I  caught  him  looking  at  me  and  I  turned  my 
eyes  away. 

We  had  to  go  to  the  kitchen,  but  neither  my  fa- 
ther nor  mother  were  there.  My  grandfather  was 
seated  before  the  fire  in  his  big  chair  as  though  he 
had  not  moved  since  the  night  before,  and  my  eldest 
sister,  whose  name  was  Annie,  was  wiping  the 
table.  Allen,  my  eldest  brother,  was  sweeping  the 
room.  I  went  over  to  them  to  wish  them  good 
morning,  but  they  continued  with  their  work  with- 


316 NOBODY'S  BOY 

out  taking  any  notice  of  me.  I  went  towards  my 
grandfather,  but  he  would  not  let  me  get  near  him, 
and  like  the  evening  before,  he  spat  at  my  side, 
which  stopped  me  short. 

"  Ask  them,"  I  said  to  Mattia,  "  what  time  I  shall 
see  my  mother  and  father?  " 

Mattia  did  as  I  told  him,  and  my  grandfather, 
upon  hearing  one  of  us  speak  English,  seemed  to 
feel  more  amiable. 

"What  does  he  say?" 

"  He  says  that  your  father  has  gone  out  for  the 
day  and  that  your  mother  is  asleep,  and  that  if  we 
like  we  may  go  out." 

"  Did  he  only  say  that?  "  I  asked,  finding  this 
translation  very  short. 

Mattia  seemed  confused. 

"  I  don't  know  if  I  understood  the  rest,"  he  said. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  think  you  understood." 

"  It  seemed  to  me  that  he  said  that  if  we  found 
some  bargains  in  the  city  we  were  not  to  miss  them. 
He  said  that  we  lived  at  the  expense  of  fools." 

My  grandfather  must  have  guessed  that  Mattia 
was  explaining  what  he  had  said  to  me,  for  with 
the  hand  that  was  not  paralyzed,  he  made  a  motion 
as  though  he  were  slipping  something  into  his 
pocket,  then  he  winked  his  eye. 

"  Let  us  go  out,"  I  said  quickly. 

For  two  or  three  hours  we  walked  about,  not 
daring  to  go  far  for  fear  we  might  become  lost. 
Bethnal-Green  was  even  more  horrible  in  the  day- 
time than  it  had  been  at  night,  Mattia  and  I 


A  DISTRESSING  DISCOVERY    817 

hardly  spoke  a  word.  Now  and  again  he  pressed 
my  hand. 

When  we  returned  to  the  house  my  mother  had 
not  left  her  room.  Through  the  open  door  I  could 
see  that  she  was  leaning  her  head  on  the  table. 
Thinking  that  she  was  sick  I  ran  to  her  to  kiss  her, 
as  I  was  unable  to  speak  to  her.  She  lifted  up  her 
head,  which  swayed.  She  looked  at  me  but  did  not 
see  me.  I  smelled  the  odor  of  gin  on  her  hot 
breath.  I  drew  back.  Her  head  fell  again  on  her 
arms  resting  on  the  table. 

"  Gin,"  said  my  grandfather,  grinning. 

I  remained  motionless.  I  felt  turned  to  stone. 
I  don't  know  how  long  I  stood  so.  Suddenly  I 
turned  to  Mattia.  He  was  looking  at  me  with  eyes 
full  of  tears.  I  signed  to  him  and  again  we  left 
the  house.  For  a  long  time  we  walked  about,  side 
by  side,  holding  each  other's  hands,  saying  nothing, 
going  straight  before  us  without  knowing  where  we 
were  going. 

"  Where  do  you  want  to  go,  Remi?  "  he  asked  at 
last,  anxiously. 

"  I  don't  know.  Somewhere  so  we  can  talk.  I 
want  to  speak  to  you,  Mattia.  We  can't  talk  in  this 
crowd." 

We  had  by  this  time  come  to  a  much  wider  street 
at  the  end  of  which  was  a  public  garden.  We  hur- 
ried to  this  spot  and  sat  down  on  a  bench. 

"  You  know  how  much  I  love  you,  Mattia  boy," 
I  began,  "  and  you  know  that  it  was  through  friend- 
ship for  you  that  I  asked  you  to  come  with  me  to 


818  NOBODY'S  BOY 

see  my  people.  You  won't  doubt  my  friendship, 
no  matter  what  I  ask  of  you?  " 

"  Don't  be  such  a  silly,"  he  said,  forcing  a  smile. 

"  You  want  to  laugh  so  that  I  won't  break  down," 
I  replied.  "  If  I  can't  cry  when  I'm  with  you,  when 
can  I  cry?  But  ...  Oh  ...  oh,  Mattia,  Mat- 
tia!" 

Throwing  my  arms  around  dear  old  Mattia's 
neck,  I  burst  into  tears.  Never  had  I  felt  so  miser- 
able. When  I  had  been  alone  in  this  great  world, 
never  had  I  felt  so  unhappy  as  I  did  at  this  moment. 
After  my  burst  of  sobs  I  forced  myself  to  be  calm. 
It  was  not  because  I  wanted  Mattia's  pity  that  I 
had  brought  him  to  this  garden,  it  was  not  for  my- 
self ;  it  was  for  him. 

"  Mattia,"  I  said  resolutely,  "  you  must  go  back 
to  France." 

"  Leave  you  ?    Never !  " 

"  I  knew  beforehand  what  you  would  reply  and 
I  am  pleased,  oh,  so  pleased  that  you  wish  to  be 
with  me,  but,  Mattia,  you  must  go  back  to  France 
at  once ! " 

"Why?    Tell  me  that." 

"  Because.  .  .  .  Tell  me,  Mattia.  Don't  be 
afraid.  Did  you  sleep  last  night?  Did  you  see?  " 

"  I  did  not  sleep,"  he  answered. 

"And  you  saw  .  .  .?" 

"  All." 

"  And  you  understood?  " 

"  That  those  goods  had  not  been  paid  for.  Your 
father  was  angry  with  the  men  because  they 


A  DISTRESSING  DISCOVERY    819 

knocked  at  the  stable  door  and  not  at  the  house 
door.  They  told  him  that  the  police  were  watching 
them." 

"  You  see  very  well,  then,  that  you  must  go,"  I 
said. 

"  If  I  must  go,  you  must  go  also ;  it  is  no  better 
for  one  than  for  the  other." 

"  If  you  had  met  Garofoli  in  Paris  and  he  had 
forced  you  to  go  back  to  him,  I  am  sure  you  would 
not  have  wanted  me  to  stay  with  you.  I  am  simply 
doing  what  you  would  do  yourself." 

He  did  not  reply. 

"  You  must  go  back  to  France,"  I  insisted ;  "  go 
to  Lise  and  tell  her  that  I  cannot  do  for  her  father 
what  I  promised.  I  told  her  that  the  first  thing  I 
did  would  be  to  pay  off  his  debts.  You  must  tell 
her  how  it  is,  and  go  to  Mother  Barberin  also. 
Simply  say  that  my  people  are  not  rich  as  I  had 
thought ;  there  is  no  disgrace  in  not  having  money. 
But  don't  tell  them  anything  more." 

"  It  is  not  because  they  are  poor  that  you  want 
me  to  go,  so  I  shan't  go,"  Mattia  replied  obstinately. 
"  I  know  what  it  is,  after  what  we  saw  last  night; 
you  are  afraid  for  me." 

"Mattia,  don't  say  that!" 

"  You  are  afraid  one  day  that  I  shall  cut  the 
tickets  off  goods  that  have  not  been  paid  for." 

"Mattia,  Mattia,  don't!" 

"  Well,  if  you  are  afraid  for  me,  I  am  afraid  for 
you.  Let  us  both  go." 

"  It's  impossible ;  my  parents  are  nothing  to  you, 


820 NOBODY'S  BOY 

but  this  is  my  father  and  mother,  and  I  must  stay 
with  them.  It  is  my  family." 

"Your  family!  That  man  who  steals,  your  fa- 
ther !  That  drunken  woman  your  mother !  " 

"  Don't  you  dare  say  so,  Mattia,"  I  cried,  spring- 
ing up  from  my  seat;  "you  are  speaking  of  my 
father  and  mother  and  I  must  respect  them  and  love 
them." 

"Yes,  so  you  should  if  they  are  your  people,  but 
.  .  .  are  they?  " 

"  You  forget  their  many  proofs." 

"  You  don't  resemble  your  father  or  your  mother. 
Their  children  are  all  fair,  while  you  are  dark. 
And  then  how  is  it  they  could  spend  so  much  money 
to  find  a  child?  Put  all  these  things  together  and 
in  my  opinion  you  are  not  a  Driscoll.  You  might 
write  to  Mother  Barberin  and  ask  her  to  tell  you 
just  what  the  clothes  were  like  that  you  wore  when 
you  were  found.  Then  ask  that  man  you  call  your 
father  to  describe  the  clothes  his  baby  had  on  when 
it  was  stolen.  Until  then  I  shan't  move." 

"  But  suppose  one  day  Mattia  gets  a  bang  on  his 
poor  head?" 

"  That  would  not  be  so  hard  if  he  received  the 
blow  for  a  friend,"  he  said,  smiling. 

We  did  not  return  to  the  Bed  Lion  Court  until 
night.  My  father  and  mother  passed  no  remark 
upon  our  absence.  After  supper  my  father  drew 
two  chairs  to  the  fireside,  which  brought  a  growl 
from  my  grandfather,  and  then  asked  us  to  tell  him 


A  DISTRESSING  DISCOVERY    821 

how  we  had  made  enough  money  to  live  on  in 
France.  I  told  the  story. 

"  Not  only  did  we  earn  enough  to  live  on,  but  we 
got  enough  to  buy  a  cow,"  said  Mattia  with  assur- 
ance. In  his  turn  he  told  how  we  came  by  the  cow. 

"  You  must  be  clever  kids,"  said  my  father ; 
"  show  us  what  you  can  do." 

I  took  my  harp  and  played  a  piece,  but  not  my 
Neapolitan  song.  Mattia  played  a  piece  on  his 
violin  and  a  piece  on  his  cornet.  It  was  the  cornet 
solo  that  brought  the  greatest  applause  from  the 
children  who  had  gathered  round  us  in  a  circle. 

"  And  Capi,  can  he  do  anything?  "  asked  my  fa- 
ther. "  He  ought  to  be  able  to  earn  his  food." 

I  was  very  proud  of  Capi's  talents.  I  put  him 
through  all  his  tricks  and  as  usual  he  scored  a  great 
success. 

"Why,  that  dog  is  worth  a  fortune,"  exclaimed 
my  father. 

I  was  very  pleased  at  this  praise  and  assured  him 
that  Capi  could  learn  anything  that  one  wished  to 
teach  him.  My  father  translated  what  I  said  into 
English,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  added  some- 
thing more  which  made  everybody  laugh,  for  the  old 
grandfather  winked  his  eye  several  times  and  said, 
"Fine  dog!" 

"  This  is  what  I  suggest,"  said  my  father,  "  that 
is  if  Mattia  would  like  to  live  with  us?  " 

"  I  want  to  stay  with  Remi,"  replied  Mattia. 

"Well,  this  is  what  I  propose,"  continued  my 


322 NOBODY'S  BOY 

father.  "  We're  not  rich  and  we  all  work.  In  the 
summer  we  travel  through  the  country  and  the  chil- 
dren go  and  sell  the  goods  to  those  who  won't  take 
the  trouble  to  come  to  us,  but  in  the  winter  we 
haven't  much  to  do.  Now  you  and  Remi  can  go  and 
play  music  in  the  streets.  You'll  make  quite  a  lit- 
tle money  as  Christmas  draws  near,  but  Ned  and 
Allen  must  take  Capi  with  them  and  he'll  make  the 
people  laugh  with  his  tricks ;  in  that  way  the  talent 
will  be  distributed." 

"  Capi  won't  work  well  with  any  one  but  me,"  I 
said  quickly.  I  could  not  bear  to  be  parted  from 
my  dog. 

"  He'll  learn  to  work  with  Allen  and  Ned  easy," 
said  my  father ;  "  we'll  get  more  money  this  way." 

"  Oh,  but  we'll  get  ever  so  much  more  with  Capi," 
I  insisted. 

"  That's  enough,"  replied  my  father  briefly ; 
"  when  I  say  a  thing  I  mean  it.  No  arguments." 

I  said  nothing  more.  As  I  laid  down  in  my  bed 
that  night  Mattia  whispered  in  my  ear :  "  Now  to- 
morrow you  write  to  Mother  Barberin."  Then  he 
jumped  into  bed. 

But  the  next  morning  I  had  to  give  Capi  his  les- 
ion. I  took  him  in  my  arms  and  while  I  gently 
kissed  him  on  his  cold  nose,  I  explained  to  him  what 
he  had  to  do;  poor  doggy!  how  he  looked  at  me, 
how  he  listened!  I  then  put  his  leash  in  Allen's 
hand  and  he  followed  the  two  boys  obediently,  but 
with  a  forlorn  air. 

My  father  took  Mattia  and  me  across  London 


A  DISTRESSING  DISCOVERY    323 

where  there  were  beautiful  houses,  splendid  streets 
with  wide  pavements,  and  carriages  that  shone  like 
glass,  drawn  by  magnificent  horses  and  driven  by 
big  fat  coachmen  with  powdered  wigs.  It  was  late 
when  we  got  back  to  Red  Lion  Court,  for  the  dis- 
tance from  the  West  End  to  Bethnal-Green  is  great. 
How  pleased  I  was  to  see  Capi  again.  He  was  cov- 
ered with  mud,  but  in  a  good  humor.  I  was  so 
pleased  to  see  him,  that  after  I  had  rubbed  him 
well  down  with  dry  straw,  I  wrapped  him  in  my 
sheepskin  and  made  him  sleep  in  my  bed. 

Things  went  on  this  way  for  several  days.  Mattia 
and  I  went  one  way  and  Capi,  Ned,  and  Allen  an- 
other. Then  one  evening  my  father  told  me  that 
we  could  take  Capi  the  next  day  with  us,  as  he 
wanted  the  two  boys  to  do  something  in  the  house. 
Mattia  and  I  were  very  pleased  and  we  intended  to 
do  our  utmost  to  bring  back  a  good  sum  of  money 
so  that  he  would  let  us  have  the  dog  always.  We 
had  to  get  Capi  back  and  we  would  not  spare  our- 
selves, neither  one  of  us.  We  made  Capi  undergo  a 
severe  washing  and  combing  early  in  the  morning, 
then  we  went  off. 

Unfortunately  for  our  plan  a  heavy  fog  had  been 
hanging  over  London  for  two  entire  days.  It  was 
so  dense  that  we  could  only  see  a  few  steps  before 
UB,  and  those  who  listened  to  us  playing  behind 
these  fog  curtains  could  not  see  Capi.  It  was  a 
most  annoying  state  of  affairs  for  our  "  takings." 
Little  did  we  think  how  indebted  we  should  be  to 
the  fog  a  few  minutei  later.  We  were  walking 


324  NOBODY'S  BOY 

through  one  of  the  most  popular  streets  when  sud- 
denly I  discovered  that  Capi  was  not  with  us.  This 
was  extraordinary,  for  he  always  kept  close  at  our 
heels.  I  waited  for  him  to  catch  up  with  us.  I 
stood  at  the  entrance  of  a  dark  alley  and  whistled 
softly,  for  we  could  see  but  a  short  distance.  I  was 
beginning  to  fear  that  he  had  been  stolen  from  us 
when  he  came  up  on  the  run,  holding  a  pair  of 
woolen  stockings  between  his  teeth.  Placing  his 
fore  paws  against  me  he  presented  them  to  me  with 
a  bark.  He  seemed  as  proud  as  when  he  had  accom- 
plished one  of  his  most  difficult  tricks  and  wanted 
my  approval.  It  was  all  done  in  a  few  seconds.  I 
stood  dumbfounded.  Then  Mattia  seized  the  stock- 
ings with  one  hand  and  pulled  me  down  the  alley 
with  the  other. 

"  Walk  quick,  but  don't  run,"  he  whispered. 

He  told  me  a  moment  later  that  a  man  who  had 
hurried  past  him  on  the  pavement  was  saying, 
"Where's  that  thief?  I'll  get  him!"  We  went 
out  by  the  other  end  of  the  alley. 

"  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  fog  we  should  have 
been  arrested  as  thieves,"  said  Mattia. 

For  a  moment  I  stood  almost  choking.  They  had 
made  a  thief  of  my  good  honest  Capi ! 

"  Hold  him  tight,"  I  said,  "  and  come  back  to  the 
house." 

We  walked  quickly. 

The  father  and  mother  were  seated  at  the  table 
folding  up  material.  I  threw  the  pair  of  stockings 
down.  Allen  and  Ned  laughed. 


A  DISTRESSING  DISCOVERY    825 

"Here's  a  pair  of  stockings,"  I  said;  "you've 
made  a  thief  of  my  dog.  I  thought  you  took  him 
out  to  amuse  people." 

I  was  trembling  so  I  could  scarcely  speak,  and 
yet  I  never  felt  more  determined. 

"And  if  it  was  not  for  amusement,"  demanded 
my  father,  "  what  would  you  do,  I'd  like  to  know?  " 

"  I'd  tie  a  cord  round  Capi's  neck,  and  although 
I  love  him  dearly,  I'd  drown  him.  I  don't  want 
Capi  to  become  a  thief  any  more  than  I  want  to  be 
one  myself,  and  if  I  thought  that  I  ever  should  be- 
come a  thief,  I'd  drown  myself  at  once  with  my 
dog." 

My  father  looked  me  full  in  the  face.  I  thought 
he  was  going  to  strike  me.  His  eyes  gleamed.  I 
did  not  flinch. 

"Oh,  very  well,  then,"  said  he,  recovering  him- 
self ;  "  so  that  it  shall  not  happen  again,  you  may 
take  Capi  out  with  you  in  the  future." 

I  showed  my  fist  to  the  two  boys.  I  could  not 
speak  to  them,  but  they  saw  by  my  manner  that  if 
they  dared  have  anything  more  to  do  with  my  dog, 
they  would  have  me  to  reckon  with.  I  was  willing 
to  fight  them  both  to  protect  Capi. 

From  that  day  every  one  in  my  family  openly 
showed  their  dislike  for  me.  My  grandfather  con- 
tinued to  spit  angrily  when  I  approached  him. 
The  boys  and  my  eldest  sister  played  every  trick 
they  possibly  could  upon  me.  My  father  and 
mother  ignored  me,  only  demanding  of  me  my 
money  every  evening.  Out  of  the  whole  family,  for 


826 NOBODY'S  BOY 

whom  I  had  felt  so  much  affection  when  I  had 
landed  in  England,  there  was  only  baby  Kate  who 
would  let  me  fondle  her,  and  she  turned  from  me 
coldly  if  I  had  not  candy  or  an  orange  in  my  pocket 
for  her. 

Although  I  would  not  listen  to  what  Mattia  had 
said  at  first,  gradually,  little  by  little,  I  began  to 
wonder  if  I  did  really  belong  to  this  family.  I  had 
done  nothing  for  them  to  be  so  unkind  to  me. 
Mattia,  seeing  me  so  greatly  worried,  would  say  as 
though  to  himself:  "I  am  just  wondering  what 
kind  of  clothes  Mother  Barberin  will  tell  us  you 
wore  .  .  ." 

At  last  the  letter  came.  The  priest  had  written 
it  for  her.  It  read : 

"  My  little  Kemi :  I  was  surprised  and  sorry  to 
learn  the  contents  of  your  letter.  From  what  Bar- 
berin told  me  and  also  from  the  clothes  you  had  on 
when  you  were  found,  I  thought  that  you  belonged 
to  a  very  rich  family.  I  can  easily  tell  you  what 
you  wore,  for  I  have  kept  everything.  You  were 
not  wound  up  in  wrappings  like  a  French  baby ;  you 
wore  long  robes  and  underskirts  like  little  English 
babies.  You  had  on  a  white  flannel  robe  and  over 
that  a  very  fine  linen  robe,  then  a  big  white  cash- 
mere pelisse  lined  with  white  silk  and  trimmed  with 
beautiful  white  embroidery,  and  you  had  a  lovely 
lace  bonnet,  and  then  white  woolen  socks  with  little 
silk  rosettes.  None  of  these  things  were  marked, 
but  the  little  flannel  jacket  you  liad  next  to  your 


A  DISTRESSING  DISCOVERY    827 

skin  and  the  flannel  robe  had  both  been  marked, 
but  the  marks  had  been  carefully  cut  out.  There, 
Remi,  boy,  that  is  all  I  can  tell  you.  Don't  worry, 
dear  child,  that  you  can't  give  us  all  the  fine  pres- 
ents that  you  promised.  Your  cow  that  you  bought 
with  your  savings  is  worth  all  the  presents  in  the 
world  to  me.  I  am  pleased  to  tell  you  that  she's  in 
good  health  and  gives  the  same  fine  quantity  of 
milk,  so  I  am  very  comfortably  off  now,  and  I  never 
look  at  her  without  thinking  of  you  and  your  little 
friend  Mattia.  Let  me  have  news  of  you  sometimes, 
dear  boy,  you  are  so  tender  and  affectionate,  and  I 
hope,  now  you  have  found  your  family,  they  will 
all  love  you  as  you  deserve  to  be  loved.  I  kiss  you 
lovingly. 

"  Your  foster  mother, 

"WIDOW  BARBERIN." 

Dear  Mother  Barberin !  she  imagined  that  every- 
body must  love  me  because  she  did ! 

"  She's  a  fine  woman,"  said  Mattia ;  "  very  fine, 
she  thought  of  me !  Now  let's  see  what  Mr.  Driscoll 
has  to  say." 

"  He  might  have  forgotten  the  things." 

"  Does  one  forget  the  clothes  that  their  child 
wears  when  it  was  kidnaped?  Why,  it's  only 
through  its  clothes  that  they  can  find  it" 

"  Wait  until  we  hear  what  he  says  before  we  think 
anything." 

It  was  not  an  easy  thing  for  me  to  ask  my  father 
how  I  was  dressed  on  the  day  that  I  was  stolen.  If 


828 NOBODY'S  BOY 

I  had  put  the  question  casually  without  any  under- 
thought,  it  would  have  been  simple  enough.  As  it 
was  I  was  timid.  Then  one  day  when  the  cold  sleet 
had  driven  me  home  earlier  than  usual,  I  took  my 
courage  in  both  hands,  and  broached  the  subject 
that  was  causing  me  so  much  anxiety.  At  my  ques- 
tion my  father  looked  me  full  in  the  face.  But  I 
looked  back  at  him  far  more  boldly  than  I  imagined 
that  I  could  at  this  moment.  Then  he  smiled. 
There  was  something  hard  and  cruel  in  the  smile 
but  still  it  was  a  smile. 

"  On  the  day  that  you  were  stolen  from  us,"  he 
said  slowly,  "  you  wore  a  flannel  robe,  a  linen  robe, 
a  lace  bonnet,  white  woolen  shoes,  and  a  white  em- 
broidered cashmere  pelisse.  Two  of  your  garments 
were  marked  F.D.,  Francis  Driscoll,  your  real 
name,  but  this  mark  was  cut  out  by  the  woman  who 
stole  you,  for  she  hoped  that  in  this  way  you  would 
never  be  found.  I'll  show  you  your  baptismal  cer- 
tificates which,  of  course,  I  still  have." 

He  searched  in  a  drawer  and  soon  brought  forth 
a  big  paper  which  he  handed  to  me. 

"  If  you  don't  mind,"  I  said  with  a  last  effort, 
"  Mattia  will  translate  it  for  me." 

"  Certainly." 

Mattia  translated  it  as  well  as  he  could.  It  ap- 
peared that  I  was  born  on  Thursday,  August  the 
2nd,  and  that  I  was  the  son  of  John  Driscoll  and 
Margaret  Grange,  his  wife. 

What  further  proofs  could  I  ask? 

"That's  all  very  fine,"  said  Mattia  that  night, 


A  DISTRESSING  DISCOVERY    329 

when  we  were  in  our  caravan,  "  but  how  comes  it 
that  peddlers  were  rich  enough  to  give  their  chil- 
dren lace  bonnets  and  embroidered  pelisses?  Ped- 
dlers are  not  so  rich  as  that!  " 

"  It  is  because  they  were  peddlers  that  they  could 
get  those  things  cheaper." 

Mattia  whistled,  but  he  shook  his  head,  then 
again  he  whispered:  "You're  not  that  Driscoll's 
baby,  but  you're  the  baby  that  Driscoll  stole !  " 

I  was  about  to  reply  but  he  had  already  climbed 
up  into  his  bed. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

A   MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER 

IF  I  had  been  in  Mattia's  place,  I  should  per- 
haps have  had  as  much  imagination  as  he,  but 
I  felt  in  my  position  that  it  was  wrong  for  me  to 
have  such  thoughts.  It  had  been  proved  beyond  a 
doubt  that  Mr.  Driscoll  was  my  father.  I  could 
not  look  at  the  matter  from  the  same  point  of  view 
as  Mattia.  He  might  doubt  .  .  .  but  I  must  not. 
When  he  tried  to  make  me  believe  as  he  did,  I  told 
him  to  be  silent.  But  he  was  pig-headed  and  I  was 
not  always  able  to  get  the  better  of  his  obstinacy. 

"  Why  are  you  dark  and  all  the  rest  of  the  family 
fair?  "  he  would  ask  repeatedly. 

"  How  was  it  that  poor  people  could  dress  their 
baby  in  fine  laces  and  embroidery?"  was  another 
often  repeated  question.  And  I  could  only  reply 
by  putting  a  question  myself. 

"  Why  did  they  search  for  me  if  I  was  not  their 
child?  Why  had  they  given  money  to  Barberin 
and  to  Greth  and  Galley?" 

Mattia  could  find  no  answer  to  my  question  and 
yet  he  would  not  be  convinced. 

"  I  think  we  should  both  go  back  to  France,"  he 
urged. 

380 


A  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER 

"  That's  impossible." 

"  Because  it's  your  duty  to  keep  with  your  fam- 
ily, eh?  But  is  it  your  family?" 

These  discussions  only  had  one  result,  they  made 
me  more  unhappy  than  I  had  ever  been.  How  ter- 
rible it  is  to  doubt  Yet,  in  spite  of  my  wish  not  to 
doubt,  I  doubted.  Who  would  have  thought  when 
I  was  crying  so  sadly  because  I  thought  I  had  no 
family  that  I  should  be  in  such  despair  now  that 
I  had  one.  How  could  I  know  the  truth?  In  the 
meantime  I  had  to  sing  and  dance  and  laugh  and 
make  grimaces  when  my  heart  was  full. 

One  Sunday  my  father  told  me  to  stay  in  the 
house  because  he  wanted  me.  He  sent  Mattia  off 
alone.  All  the  others  had  gone  out;  my  grand- 
father alone  was  upstairs.  I  had  been  with  my 
father  for  about  an  hour  when  there  was  a  knock  at 
the  door.  A  gentleman,  who  was  unlike  any  of  the 
men  who  usually  called  on  my  father,  came  in.  He 
was  about  fifty  years  old  and  dressed  in  the  height 
of  fashion.  He  had  white  pointed  teeth  like  a  dog 
and  when  he  smiled  he  drew  his  lips  back  over  them 
as  though  he  was  going  to  bite.  He  spoke  to  my 
father  in  English,  turning  continually  to  look  at 
me.  Then  he  began  to  talk  French ;  he  spoke  this 
language  with  scarcely  an  accent. 

"  This  is  the  young  boy  that  you  spoke  to  me 
about?  "  he  said.  "  He  appears  very  well." 

"  Answer  the  gentleman,"  said  my  father  to  me. 

"  Yes,  I  am  quite  well,"  I  replied,  surprised. 

"You  have  never  been  ill?" 


332 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  I  had  pneumonia  once." 

"  Ah,  when  was  that?  " 

"  Three  years  ago.  I  slept  out  in  the  cold  all 
night  My  master,  who  was  with  me,  was  frozen  to 
death,  and  I  got  pneumonia." 

"Haven't  you  felt  any  effects  of  this  illness 
since?  " 

"  No." 

"  No  fatigue,  no  perspiration  at  night?  " 

"  No.  When  I'm  tired  it's  because  I  have  walked 
a  lot,  but  I  don't  get  ill." 

He  came  over  to  me  and  felt  my  arms,  then  put 
his  head  on  my  heart,  then  at  my  back  and  on  my 
chest,  telling  me  to  take  deep  breaths.  He  also 
told  me  to  cough.  That  done  he  looked  at  me  for  a 
long  time.  It  was  then  that  I  thought  he  wanted 
to  bite  me,  his  teeth  gleamed  in  such  a  terrible 
smile.  A  few  moments  later  he  left  the  house  with 
my  father. 

What  did  it  mean?  Did  he  want  to  take  me  in 
his  employ?  I  should  have  to  leave  Mattia  and 
Capi.  No,  I  wouldn't  be  a  servant  to  anybody, 
much  less  this  man  whom  I  disliked  already. 

My  father  returned  and  told  me  I  could  go  out 
if  I  wished.  I  went  into  the  caravan.  What  was 
my  surprise  to  find  Mattia  there.  He  put  his  fin- 
ger to  his  lips. 

"  Go  and  open  the  stable  door,"  he  whispered, 
"  I'll  go  out  softly  behind  you.  They  mustn't  know 
that  I  was  here." 

I  was  mystified  but  I  did  as  he  asked. 


A  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER    888 

"  Do  you  know  who  that  man  was  who  was  with 
your  father?  "  he  asked  excitedly  when  we  were  in 
the  street.  "  It  was  Mr.  James  Milligan,  your 
friend's  uncle." 

I  stood  staring  at  him  in  the  middle  of  the  pave- 
ment. He  took  me  by  the  arm  and  dragged  me  on. 

"  I  was  not  going  out  all  alone,"  he  continued, 
"so  I  went  in  there  to  sleep,  but  I  didn't  sleep. 
Your  father  and  a  gentleman  came  into  the  stable 
and  I  heard  all  they  said;  at  first  I  didn't  try  to 
listen  but  afterward  I  did. 

" '  Solid  as  a  rock,'  said  the  gentleman ;  '  nine 
out  of  ten  would  have  died,  but  he  pulled  through 
with  pneumonia/ 

"  '  How  is  your  nephew? '  asked  your  father. 

"  '  Better.  Three  months  ago  the  doctors  again 
gave  him  up,  but  his  mother  saved  him  once  more. 
Oh,  she's  a  marvelous  mother,  is  Mrs.  Milligan.' 

"  You  can  imagine  when  I  heard  this  name  if  I 
did  not  glue  my  ears  to  the  window. 

" '  Then  if  your  nephew  is  better,'  continued  your 
father,  '  all  you've  done  is  useless.' 

" '  For  the  moment,  perhaps,'  replied  the  other, 
'but  I  don't  say  that  Arthur  is  going  to  live;  it 
would  be  a  miracle  if  he  did,  and  I  am  not  afraid 
of  miracles.  The  day  he  dies  the  only  heir  to  that 
estate  will  be  myself.' 

" '  Don't  worry ;  I'll  see  to  that,'  said  Driscoll. 

" '  Yes,  I  count  on  you,'  replied  Mr.  Milligan." 

My  first  thought  was  to  question  my  father,  but 
it  was  not  wise  to  let  them  know  that  they  had  been 


384 NOBODY'S  BOY 

overheard.  As  Mr.  Milligan  had  business  with  my 
father  he  would  probably  come  to  the  house  again, 
and  the  next  time,  Mattia,  whom  he  did  not  know, 
could  follow  him. 

A  few  days  later  Mattia  met  a  friend  of  his,  Bob, 
the  Englishman,  whom  he  had  known  at  the  Gassot 
Circus.  I  could  see  by  the  way  he  greeted  Mattia 
that  he  was  very  fond  of  him.  He  at  once  took  a 
liking  to  Capi  and  myself.  From  that  day  we  had 
a  strong  friend,  who,  by  his  experience  and  advice, 
was  of  great  help  to  us  in  time  of  trouble. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

IN  PRISON 

SPRING  came  slowly,  but  at  last  the  day  ar- 
rived for  the  family  to  leave  London.  The 
caravans  had  been  repainted  and  were  loaded  with 
merchandise.  There  were  materials,  hats,  shawls, 
handkerchiefs,  sweaters,  underwear,  ear-rings, 
razors,  soap,  powders,  cream,  everything  that  one 
could  imagine. 

The  caravans  were  full.  The  horses  bought. 
Where,  and  how?  I  did  not  know  but  we  saw  them 
come  and  everything  was  then  ready  for  the  de- 
parture. We  did  not  know  if  we  were  to  stay  with 
the  old  grandfather  or  go  with  the  family,  but  my 
father,  finding  that  we  made  good  money  playing, 
told  us  the  night  before  that  we  should  go  on  the 
road  with  him  and  play  our  music. 

"Let  us  go  back  to  France,"  urged  Mattia; 
"  here's  a  good  chance  now." 

"Why  not  travel  through  England?" 

"  Because  I  tell  you  something's  going  to  happen 
if  we  stay  here,  and  besides  we  might  find  Mrs.  Mil- 
ligan  and  Arthur  in  France.  If  he  has  been  ill 
she  will  be  sure  to  take  him  on  their  barge,  now  the 
summer  is  coming." 

I  told  him  that  I  must  stay. 

The  same  day  we  started.     I  saw  in  the  afternoon 

335 


336 NOBODY'S  BOY 

how  they  sold  the  things  that  cost  so  little.  We 
arrived  at  a  large  village  and  the  caravans  were 
drawn  up  on  the  public  square.  One  of  the  sides 
was  lowered  and  the  goods  displayed  temptingly 
for  the  purchasers  to  inspect. 

"  Look  at  the  price !  Look  at  the  price !  "  cried 
my  father.  "  You  couldn't  find  anything  like  this 
elsewhere  for  the  price !  I  don't  sell  'em ;  I'm  giv- 
ing 'em  away.  Look  at  this ! " 

"  He  must  have  stolen  them,"  I  heard  the  people 
say  when  they  saw  the  prices.  If  they  had  glanced 
at  my  shamed  looks,  they  would  have  known  that 
they  were  right  in  their  suppositions. 

If  they  did  not  notice  me,  Mattia  did.  "  How 
much  longer  can  you  bear  this?  "  he  asked. 

I  was  silent. 

"  Let  us  go  back  to  France,"  he  urged  again.  "  I 
feel  that  something  is  going  to  happen,  and  going 
to  happen  soon.  Don't  you  think  sooner  or  later 
the  police  will  get  on  to  Driscoll,  seeing  how  cheap 
he's  selling  the  things?  Then  what'll  happen?  " 

"  Oh,  Mattia  .  .  ." 

"  If  you  will  keep  your  eyes  shut  I  must  keep 
mine  open.  We  shall  both  be  arrested  and  we 
haven't  done  anything,  but  how  can  we  prove  that? 
Aren't  we  eating  the  food  that  is  paid  for  by  the 
money  that  he  gets  for  these  things?  " 

I  had  never  thought  of  that;  it  struck  me  now 
like  a  blow  in  the  face. 

"  But  we  earn  our  food,"  I  stammered,  trying  to 
defend  ourselves. 


IN  PRISON  387 


"  That's  true,  but  we're  living  with  thieves,"  re- 
plied Mattia,  speaking  more  frankly  than  he  had 
ever  done  before,  "  and  then  if  we're  sent  to  prison, 
we  can't  look  for  your  family.  And  I'm  anxious  to 
see  Mrs.  Milligan  to  warn  her  against  that  James 
Milligan.  You  don't  know  what  he  might  not  do 
to  Arthur.  Let  us  go  while  we  can." 

"  Let  me  have  a  few  more  days  to  think  it  over, 
Mattia,"  I  said. 

"  Hurry  up,  then.  Jack  the  Giant  Killer  smelled 
flesh  —  I  smell  danger." 

Circumstances  did  for  me  what  I  was  afraid  to 
do.  Several  weeks  had  passed  since  we  left  Lon- 
don. My  father  had  set  up  his  caravans  in  a  town 
where  the  races  were  about  to  be  held.  As  Mattia 
and  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  selling  the  goods,  we 
went  to  see  the  race-course,  which  was  at  some  dis- 
tance from  the  town.  Outside  the  English  race- 
courses there  is  usually  a  fair  going  on.  Mounte- 
banks of  all  descriptions,  musicians,  and  stall 
holders  gather  there  two  or  three  days  in  advance. 

We  were  passing  by  a  camp  fire  over  which  a 
kettle  was  hanging  when  we  recognized  our  friend 
Bob,  who  had  been  with  Mattia  in  the  circus.  He 
was  delighted  to  see  us  again.  He  had  come  to  the 
races  with  two  friends  and  was  going  to  give  an 
exhibition  of  strength.  He  had  engaged  some  mu- 
sicians but  they  had  failed  him  at  the  last  moment 
and  he  was  afraid  that  the  performance  the  next 
day  would  be  a  failure.  He  had  to  have  musicians 
to  attract  a  crowd.  Would  we  help  him  out?  The 


888 NOBODY'S  BOY 

profits  would  be  divided  between  the  five  of  us  that 
made  up  the  company.  There  would  even  be  some- 
thing for  Capi,  for  he  would  like  to  have  Capi  per- 
form his  tricks  in  the  intervals.  We  agreed  and 
promised  to  be  there  the  next  day  at  the  time  he 
mentioned. 

When  I  told  of  this  arrangement  to  my  father  he 
said  that  he  wanted  Capi  and  that  we  could  not 
have  him.  I  wondered  if  they  were  going  to  make 
my  dog  do  some  dirty  trick.  From  my  look  my  fa- 
ther guessed  my  thoughts. 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right,"  he  said ;  "  Capfs  a  good 
watch  dog;  he  must  stand  by  the  caravans.  In  a 
crowd  like  we  shall  have  we  might  easily  be  robbed. 
You  two  go  alone  and  play  with  your  friend  Bob, 
and  if  you  are  not  finished  until  late,  which  will  be 
quite  likely,  you  can  join  us  at  the  Old  Oak  Tavern. 
We  shall  go  on  our  way  again  to-morrow." 

We  had  spent  the  night  before  at  the  Old  Oak 
Tavern,  which  was  a  mile  out  on  a  lonely  road. 
The  place  was  kept  by  a  couple  whose  appearance 
did  not  inspire  one  with  confidence.  It  was  quite 
easy  to  find  this  place.  It  was  on  a  straight  road. 
The  only  annoying  thing  was  that  it  was  a  long 
walk  for  us  after  a  tiring  day. 

But  when  my  father  said  a  thing  I  had  to  obey. 
I  promised  to  be  at  the  Tavern.  The  next  day, 
after  tying  Capi  to  the  caravan,  where  he  was  to  be 
on  guard,  I  hurried  off  to  the  race-course  with 
Mattia. 

We  bejan  to  play  as  soon  as  we  arrived  and  kept 


IN  PRISON  339 


it  up  until  night  My  fingers  ached  as  though  they 
had  been  pricked  with  a  thousand  pins  and  poor 
Mattia  had  blown  his  cornet  so  long  that  he  could 
scarcely  breathe.  It  was  past  midnight.  Just  as 
they  were  doing  their  last  turn  a  big  bar  of  iron 
which  they  were  using  in  their  feats  fell  on  Mattia's 
foot.  I  thought  that  his  foot  was  broken.  Fortu- 
nately it  was  only  severely  bruised.  No  bones  were 
broken,  but  still  he  could  not  walk. 

It  was  decided  that  he  should  stay  there  that 
night  with  Bob  and  that  I  should  go  on  alone  to  the 
Old  Oak  Tavern,  for  I  had  to  know  where  the  Dris- 
coll  family  was  going  the  next  day.  All  was  dark 
when  I  reached  the  tavern.  I  looked  round  for  the 
caravans.  They  were  nowhere  to  be  seen.  All  I 
could  see,  beside  one  or  two  miserable  wagons,  was 
a  big  cage  from  which,  as  I  drew  near,  came  the 
cry  of  a  wild  beast.  The  beautiful  gaudy  colored 
caravans  belonging  to  the  Driscoll  family  were 
gone. 

I  knocked  at  the  tavern  door.  The  landlord 
opened  it  and  turned  the  light  from  his  lantern  full 
on  my  face.  He  recognized  me,  but  instead  of  let- 
ting me  go  in  he  told  me  to  hurry  after  my  parents, 
who  had  gone  to  Lewes,  and  said  that  I'd  better  not 
lose  any  time  joining  them.  Then  he  shut  the  door 
in  my  face. 

Since  I  had  been  in  England  I  had  learned  to 
speak  English  fairly  well.  I  understood  clearly 
what  he  said,  but  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea  where 
Lewes  was  situated,  and  besides  I  could  not  go,  even 


840 NOBODY'S  BOY 

if  I  found  out  the  direction,  and  leave  Mattia  be- 
hind. I  began  my  weary  tramp  back  to  the  race- 
course; an  hour  later  I  was  sleeping  beside  Mattia 
in  Bob's  wagon. 

The  next  morning  Bob  told  me  how  to  get  to 
Lewes  and  I  was  ready  to  start.  I  was  watching 
him  boil  the  water  for  breakfast  when  I  looked  up 
from  the  fire  and  saw  Capi  being  led  towards  us 
by  a  policeman.  What  did  it  mean?  The  moment 
Capi  recognized  me  he  gave  a  tug  at  his  leash  and 
escaping  from  the  officer  bounded  toward  me  and 
jumped  into  my  arms. 

"  Is  that  your  dog?  "  asked  the  policeman. 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  come  with  me,  you're  under  arrest." 

He  seized  me  by  the  collar. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  arresting  him?"  cried 
Bob,  jumping  up  from  the  fire. 

"  Are  you  his  brother?  " 

"  No,  his  friend." 

"  Well,  a  man  and  a  boy  robbed  St.  George's 
Church  last  night.  They  got  up  a  ladder  and  went 
through  the  window.  This  dog  was  there  to  give 
the  alarm.  They  were  surprised  in  the  act  and  in 
their  hurry  to  get  out  by  the  window,  the  dog  was 
left  in  the  church.  I  knew  that  with  the  dog  I'd 
be  sure  to  find  the  thieves ;  here's  one,  now  where's 
his  father?  " 

I  could  not  utter  a  word.  Mattia,  who  had  heard 
the  talk,  came  out  of  the  caravan  and  limped  over 
to  me.  Bob  was  telling  the  policeman  that  I  could 


IN  PRISON  841 


not  be  guilty  because  I  had  stayed  with  him  until 
one  o'clock,  then  I  went  to  the  Old  Oak  Tavern  and 
spoke  to  the  landlord  there,  and  came  back  here  at 
once. 

"  It  was  a  quarter  after  one  that  the  church  was 
entered,"  said  the  officer,  "  and  this  boy  left  here 
at  one  o'clock  so  he  could  have  met  the  other  and 
got  to  the  church." 

"  It  takes  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  go 
from  here  to  the  town,"  said  Bob. 

"  On  the  run,  no,"  replied  the  policeman,  "  and 
what  proves  that  he  left  here  at  one  o'clock?  " 

"  I  can  prove  it;  I  swear  it,"  cried  Bob. 

The  policeman  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  This 
boy  can  explain  to  the  magistrate,"  he  said. 

As  I  was  being  led  away,  Mattia  threw  his  arms 
about  my  neck,  as  though  it  was  because  he  wanted 
to  embrace  me,  but  Mattia  had  another  object. 

"  Keep  up  your  courage,"  he  whispered,  "  we 
won't  forsake  you." 

"  Take  care  of  Capi,"  I  said  in  French,  but  the 
officer  understood. 

"Oh,  no,"  he  said;  "I'll  keep  that  dog.  He 
helped  me  to  find  you ;  he  may  help  me  to  find  the 
other." 

Handcuffed  to  the  policeman  I  had  to  pass  under 
the  gaze  of  a  crowd  of  people,  but  they  did  not  jeer 
me  like  the  peasants  in  France  had  done  at  my  first 
arrest;  these  people,  almost  all  of  them,  were  an- 
tagonistic to  the  police;  they  were  gypsies,  tramps, 
in  fact,  the  Bohemian  vagabond. 


342 NOBODY'S  BOY 

There  were  no  onions  strewn  over  this  prison 
where  I  was  now  locked  up.  This  was  a  real  jail 
with  iron  bars  at  the  windows,  the  sight  of  which 
put  all  thought  of  escape  from  my  mind.  In  the 
cell  there  was  only  a  bench  and  a  hammock.  I 
dropped  onto  the  bench  and  remained  for  a  long 
time  with  my  head  buried  in  my  hands.  Mattia 
and  Bob,  even  with  the  help  of  other  friends,  could 
never  get  me  away  from  here.  I  got  up  and  went 
over  to  the  window ;  the  bars  were  strong  and  close 
together.  The  walls  were  three  feet  thick.  The 
ground  beneath  was  paved  with  large  stones.  The 
door  was  covered  with  a  plate  of  sheet  iron.  .  .  . 
No,  I  could  not  escape. 

I  began  to  wonder  if  it  would  be  possible  for  me 
to  prove  my  innocence,  despite  Capi's  presence  in 
the  church.  Mattia  and  Bob  could  help  me  by  prov- 
ing an  alibi.  If  they  could  prove  this  I  was  saved 
in  spite  of  the  mute  testimony  that  my  poor  dog 
had  carried  against  me.  I  asked  the  jailer  when 
he  brought  in  some  food  if  it  would  be  long  before 
I  should  appear  before  the  magistrate.  I  did  not 
know  then  that  in  England  you  are  taken  into  court 
the  day  after  arrest.  The  jailer,  who  seemed  a 
kindly  sort  of  man,  told  me  that  it  would  certainly 
be  the  next  day. 

I  had  heard  tales  of  prisoners  finding  messages 
from  their  friends  in  the  food  that  was  brought  in 
to  them.  I  could  not  touch  my  food,  but  I  at  once 
began  to  crumble  my  bread.  I  found  nothing  in- 
side. There  were  some  potatoes  also;  I  mashed 


IN  PRISON  343 


them  to  a  pulp,  but  I  found  not  the  tiniest  note.  I 
did  not  sleep  that  night. 

The  next  morning  the  jailer  came  into  my  cell 
carrying  a  jug  of  water  and  a  basin.  He  told  me 
to  wash  myself  if  I  wished  to,  for  I  was  to  appear 
before  the  judge,  and  a  good  appearance  never  went 
against  one.  When  the  jailer  returned  he  told  me 
to  follow  him.  We  went  down  several  passages, 
then  came  to  a  small  door  which  he  opened. 

"  Pass  in,"  he  said. 

The  room  I  entered  was  very  close.  I  heard  a 
confused  murmur  of  voices.  Although  my  temples 
were  throbbing  and  I  could  scarcely  stand,  I  was 
able  to  take  in  my  surroundings.  The  room  was 
of  fair  size  with  large  windows  and  high  ceiling. 
The  judge  was  seated  on  a  raised  platform.  Be- 
neath him  in  front  sat  three  other  court  officials. 
Near  where  I  stood  was  a  gentleman  wearing  a  robe 
and  wig.  I  was  surprised  to  find  that  this  was  my 
lawyer.  How  was  it  I  had  an  attorney?  Where 
did  he  come  from? 

Amongst  the  witnesses,  I  saw  Bob  and  his  two 
friends,  the  landlord  of  the  Old  Oak  Tavern,  and 
some  men  whom  I  did  not  know.  Then  on  another 
stand  opposite,  amongst  several  other  persons,  I 
saw  the  policeman  who  had  arrested  me.  The  pub- 
lic prosecutor  in  a  few  words  stated  the  crime.  A 
robbery  had  been  committed  in  St  George's  Church. 
The  thieves,  a  man  and  a  child,  had  climbed  up  a 
ladder  and  broken  a  window  to  get  in.  They  had 
with  them  a  dog  to  give  the  alarm.  At  a  quarter 


844 NOBODY'S  BOY 

after  one,  a  late  pedestrian  had  seen  a  light  in  the 
church  and  had  at  once  aroused  the  sexton.  Sev- 
eral men  ran  to  the  church ;  the  dog  barked  and  the 
thieves  escaped  through  the  window,  leaving  the 
dog  behind  them.  The  dog's  intelligence  was,  re- 
markable. The  next  morning  the  animal  had  led 
the  policeman  to  the  race-course  where  he  had  rec- 
ognized his  master,  who  was  none  other  than  the 
accused  now  standing  in  the  prisoner's  dock.  As  to 
the  second  thief,  they  were  on  his  trail,  and  they 
hoped  to  arrest  him  shortly. 

There  was  little  to  be  said  for  me;  my  friends 
tried  to  prove  an  alibi,  but  the  prosecutor  said  that 
I  had  ample  time  to  meet  my  accomplice  at  the 
church  and  then  run  to  the  Old  Oak  Tavern  after. 
I  was  asked  then  how  I  could  account  for  my  dog 
being  in  the  church  at  quarter  after  one.  I  replied 
that  I  could  not  say,  for  the  dog  had  not  been  with 
me  all  day.  But  I  declared  that  I  was  innocent. 
My  attorney  tried  to  prove  that  my  dog  had  wan- 
dered into  the  church  during  the  day  and  had  been 
locked  in  when  the  sexton  closed  the  door.  He  did 
his  best  for  me,  but  the  defense  was  weak.  Then 
the  judge  said  that  I  should  be  taken  to  the  county 
jail  to  wait  for  the  Grand  Jury  to  decide  if  I 
should,  or  should  not,  be  held  for  the  assizes. 

The  assizes ! 

I  fell  back  on  my  bench.  Oh,  why  had  I  not  lis- 
tened to  Mattia. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

ESCAPE 

I  HAD  not  been  acquitted  because  the  judge  was 
expecting  the  arrest  of  the  man  who  had  en- 
tered the  church  with  the  child.  They  would  then 
know  if  I  was  this  man's  accomplice.  They  were 
on  the  trail,  the  prosecutor  had  said,  so  I  should 
have  the  shame  and  sorrow  of  appearing  in  the 
prisoner's  dock  at  the  Assizes  beside  him. 

That  evening,  just  before  dusk,  I  heard  the  clear 
notes  of  a  cornet.  Mattia  was  there!  Dear  old 
Mattia !  he  wanted  to  tell  me  that  he  was  near  and 
thinking  of  me.  He  was  evidently  in  the  street  on 
the  other  side  of  the  wall  opposite  my  window.  I 
heard  footsteps  and  the  mnrinur  of  a  crowd.  Mat- 
tia and  Bob  were  probably  giving  a  performance. 

Suddenly  I  heard  a  clear  voice  call  out  in  French, 
"  To-morrow  at  daybreak !  "  Then  at  once  Mattia 
played  his  loudest  on  the  cornet. 

It  did  not  need  any  degree  of  intelligence  to  un- 
derstand that  Mattia  had  not  addressed  these 
French  words  to  an  English  public.  I  was  not  sure 
what  they  meant,  but  evidently  I  had  to  be  on  the 
alert  at  daybreak  the  next  morning.  As  soon  as  it 
was  dark  I  got  into  my  hammock,  but  it  was  some 
time  before  I  could  go  to  sleep,  although  I  was  very 

345 


846 NOBODY'S  BOY 

tired.  At  last  I  dropped  off  to  sleep.  When  I 
awoke  it  was  night  The  stars  shone  in  the  dark 
sky  and  silence  reigned  everywhere.  A  clock 
struck  three.  I  counted  the  hours  and  the  quarter 
hours.  Leaning  against  the  wall  I  kept  my  eyes 
fixed  on  the  window.  I  watehed  the  stars  go  out 
one  by  one.  In  the  distance  I  could  hear  the  cocks 
crowing.  It  was  daybreak. 

I  opened  the  window  very  softly.  What  did  I 
expect?  There  were  still  the  iron  bars  and  the  high 
wall  opposite.  I  could  not  get  out,  and  yet  foolish 
though  the  thought  was,  I  expected  my  freedom. 
The  morning  air  chilled  me  but  I  stayed  by  my  win- 
dow, looking  out  without  knowing  at  what,  listen- 
ing without  knowing  to  what.  A  big  white  cloud 
came  up  in  the  sky.  It  was  daybreak.  My  heart 
throbbed  wildly.  Then  I  seemed  to  hear  a  scratch- 
ing on  the  wall,  but  I  had  heard  no  sound  of  foot- 
steps. I  listened.  The  scratching  continued.  I 
saw  a  head  appear  above  the  wall.  In  the  dim  light 
I  recognized  Bob. 

He  saw  me  with  my  face  pressed  against  the  bars. 

"  Silence !  "  he  said  softly. 

He  made  a  sign  for  me  to  move  away  from  the 
window.  Wondering,  I  obeyed.  He  put  a  pea- 
shooter to  his  mouth  and  blew.  A  tiny  ball  came 
through  the  air  and  fell  at  my  feet  Bob's  head 
disappeared. 

I  pounced  on  the  ball.  It  was  tissue  paper  made 
into  a  tiny  ball  like  a  pea.  The  light  was  too  dim 
for  me  to  see  what  was  written  on  it;  I  had  to  wait 


ESCAPE 847 

till  day.  I  closed  my  window  cautiously  and  lay 
down  again  in  my  hammock  with  the  tiny  bit  of 
paper  in  my  hand.  How  slowly  the  light  came. 
At  last  I  was  able  to  read  what  was  written  on  the 
paper.  I  read : 

"  To-morrow  you  will  be  taken  in  the  train  to  the 
county  jail.  A  policeman  will  be  in  the  compart- 
ment with  you.  Keep  near  the  same  door  by  which 
you  enter.  At  the  end  of  forty  minutes  (count 
them  carefully),  the  train  will  slacken  speed  as  it 
nears  a  junction;  then  open  the  door  and  jump 
out  Climb  the  small  hill  on  the  left.  We'll  be 
there.  Keep  your  courage  up ;  above  all,  jump  well 
forward  and  fall  on  your  feet." 

Saved !  I  should  not  appear  before  the  Assizes ! 
Good  Mattia,  dear  old  Bob !  How  good  of  Bob  to 
help  Mattia,  for  Mattia,  poor  little  fellow,  could 
not  have  done  this  alone. 

I  re-read  the  note.  Forty  minutes  after  the  train 
starts.  .  .  .  Sill  to  the  left.  ...  It  was  a  risky 
thing  to  do  to  jump  from  a  train,  but  even  if  I 
killed  myself  in  doing  so,  I  would  better  do  it.  Bet- 
ter die  than  be  condemned  as  a  thief. 

Would  they  think  of  Capi? 

After  I  had  again  read  my  note,  I  chewed  it  into 
a  pulp. 

The  next  day,  in  the  afternoon,  a  policeman  came 
into  my  cell  and  told  me  to  follow  him.  He  was  a 
man  over  fifty  and  I  thought  with  satisfaction  that 
he  did  not  appear  to  be  very  nimble. 


848 NOBODY'S  BOY 

Things  turned  out  just  as  Bob  had  said.  The 
train  rolled  off.  I  took  my  place  near  the  door 
where  I  had  entered.  The  policeman  sat  opposite 
me ;  we  were  alone  in  the  compartment. 

"  Do  you  speak  English  ?  "  asked  the  policeman. 

"  I  understand  if  you  don't  talk  too  rapidly,"  I 
replied. 

"  Well,  then,  I  want  to  give  you  a  little  advice, 
my  boy,"  he  said ;  "  don't  try  and  fool  the  law. 
Just  tell  me  how  it  all  happened,  and  I'll  give  you 
five  shillings.  It'll  be  easier  for  you  if  you  have  a 
little  money  in  jail." 

I  was  about  to  say  that  I  had  nothing  to  con- 
fess, but  I  felt  that  might  annoy  the  man,  so  I  said 
nothing. 

"  Just  think  it  over,"  he  continued,  "  and  when 
you're  in  jail  don't  go  and  tell  the  first  comer,  but 
send  for  me.  It  is  better  to  have  one  who  is  inter- 
ested in  you,  and  I'm  very  willing  to  help  you." 

I  nodded  my  head. 

"  Ask  for  Dolphin ;  you'll  remember  my  name?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

I  was  leaning  against  the  door.  The  window  was 
down  and  the  air  blew  in.  The  policeman  found 
that  there  was  too  much  air  so  he  moved  into  the 
middle  of  the  seat.  My  left  hand  stole  softly  out- 
side and  turned  the  handle ;  with  my  right  hand  I 
held  the  door. 

The  minutes  passed;  the  engine  whistled  and 
slackened  its  speed.  The  moment  had  come.  I 
pushed  open  the  door  quickly  and  sprang  out  as  far 


ESCAPE  849 

as  I  could  Fortunately,  my  hands,  which  I  held 
out  before  me,  touched  the  grass,  yet  the  shock  was 
so  great  that  I  rolled  on  the  ground  unconscious. 
When  I  came  to  my  senses  I  thought  that  I  was  still 
in  the  train  for  I  felt  myself  being  carried  along. 
Looking  round  I  saw  that  I  was  lying  at  the  bottom 
of  a  cart.  Strange !  My  cheeks  were  wet.  A  soft 
warm  tongue  was  licking  me.  I  turned  slightly. 
An  ugly  yellow  dog  was  leaning  over  me.  Mattia 
was  kneeling  beside  me. 

"  You're  saved,"  he  said,  pushing  aside  the  dog. 

"Where  am  I?" 

"  You  are  in  a  cart.     Bob's  driving." 

"  How  goes  it?  "  cried  Bob  from  his  seat  "  Can 
you  move  your  arms  and  legs?  " 

I  stretched  out  and  did  what  he  asked. 

"  Good,"  said  Mattia;  "  nothing  broken." 

"What  happened?" 

"  You  jumped  from  the  train  as  we  told  you,  but 
the  shock  stunned  you,  and  you  rolled  into  a  ditch. 
When  you  didn't  come,  Bob  left  the  cart,  crept 
down  the  hill,  and  carried  you  back  in  his  arms. 
We  thought  you  were  dead.  Oh,  Remi,  I  was 
afraid." 

I  stroked  his  hand.  "And  the  policeman?"  I 
asked. 

"  The  train  went  on ;  it  didn't  stop." 

My  eyes  again  fell  on  the  ugly  yellow  dog  that 
was  looking  at  me  with  eyes  that  resembled  Capi's. 
But  Capi  was  white.  .  .  . 

"  What  dog  is  that?  "  I  asked. 


850 NOBODY'S  BOY 

Before  Mattia  could  reply  the  ugly  little  animal 
had  jumped  on  me,  licking  me  furiously  and  whin- 
ing. 

"  It's  Capi ;  we  dyed  him ! "  cried  Mattia,  laugh- 
ing. 

"Dyed  him?    Why?" 

"  So  that  he  wouldn't  be  recognized.  Now  Bob 
wants  to  make  you  more  comfortable." 

While  Bob  and  Mattia  were  making  me  comfort- 
able I  asked  them  where  we  were  going. 

"  To  Little  Hampton,"  said  Mattia,  "  where  Bob's 
brother  has  a  boat  that  goes  over  to  France  to  fetch 
butter  and  eggs  from  Normandy.  We  owe  every- 
thing to  Bob.  What  could  a  poor  little  wretch  like 
me  have  done  alone?  It  was  Bob's  idea  that  you 
jump  from  the  train." 

"  And  Capi?    Who's  idea  was  it  to  get  him?  " 

"Mine.  But  it  was  Bob's  to  paint  him  yellow 
so  that  he  wouldn't  be  recognized  after  we  stole 
him  from  Policeman  Jerry.  The  judge  called  Jerry 
'  intelligent ' ;  he  wasn't  so  very  intelligent  to  let  us 
get  Capi  away.  True,  Capi  smelled  me  and  almost 
got  off  alone.  Bob  knows  the  tricks  of  dog  thieves." 

"  And  your  foot?  " 

"  Better,  or  almost  better.  I  haven't  had  time 
to  think  of  it." 

Night  was  falling.  We  had  still  a  long  distance 
to  go. 

"Are  you  afraid?"  asked  Mattia,  as  I  lay  there 
in  silence. 

"  No,  not  afraid,"  I  answered,  "  for  I  don't  think 


ESCAPE 851 

that  I  shall  be  caught  But  it  seems  to  me  that  in 
running  away  I  admit  my  guilt  That  worries  me." 

"  Better  anything,  Bob  and  I  thought,  than  that 
you  should  appear  at  the  Assizes.  Even  if  you  got 
off  it's  a  bad  thing  to  have  gone  through." 

Convinced  that  after  the  train  stopped  the  police- 
man would  lose  no  time  looking  for  me,  we  went 
ahead  as  quickly  as  possible.  The  villages  through 
which  we  drove  were  very  quiet;  lights  were  seen 
in  only  a  few  of  the  windows.  Mattia  and  I  got 
under  a  cover.  For  some  time  a  cold  wind  had  been 
blowing  and  when  we  passed  our  tongues  over  our 
lips  we  tasted  salt.  We  were  nearing  the  sea. 
Soon  we  saw  a  light  flashing  every  now  and  again. 
It  was  a  lighthouse.  Suddenly  Bob  stopped  his 
horse,  and  jumping  down  from  the  cart,  told  us  to 
wait  there.  He  was  going  to  see  his  brother  to  ask 
him  if  it  would  be  safe  for  him  to  take  us  on  his 
boat 

Bob  seemed  to  be  away  a  very  long  time.  We  did 
not  speak.  We  could  hear  the  waves  breaking  on 
the  shore  at  a  short  distance.  Mattia  was  trem- 
bling and  I  also. 

"  It  is  cold,"  he  whispered. 

Was  it  the  cold  that  made  us  shake?  When  a 
cow  or  a  sheep  in  the  field  at  the  side  touched 
against  the  fence  we  trembled  still  more.  There 
were  footsteps  on  the  road.  Bob  was  returning. 
My  fate  had  been  decided.  A  rough-looking  sailor 
wearing  a  sou'wester  and  an  oilskin  hat  was  with 
Bob. 


852 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  This  is  my  brother,"  said  Bob ;  "  he'll  take  you 
on  his  boat.  So  we'll  have  to  part  now;  no  one 
need  know  that  I  brought  you  here." 

I  wanted  to  thank  Bob  but  he  cut  me  short.  I 
grasped  his  hand. 

"  Don't  speak  of  it,"  he  said  lightly,  "  you  two 
boys  helped  me  out  the  other  night.  One  good  turn 
deserves  another.  And  I'm  pleased  to  have  been 
able  to  help  a  friend  of  Mattia's." 

We  followed  Bob's  brother  down  some  winding 
quiet  streets  till  we  came  to  the  docks.  He  pointed 
to  a  boat,  without  saying  a  word.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments we  were  on  board.  He  told  us  to  go  down 
below  into  a  little  cabin. 

u  I  start  in  two  hours'  time,"  he  said ;  "  stay  there 
and  don't  make  a  sound." 

But  we  were  not  trembling  now.  We  sat  in  the 
dark  side  by  side. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

HUNTING  FOB  THE  SWAN 

FOR  some  time  after  Bob's  brother  left  we 
heard  only  the  noise  of  the  wind  and  the  sea 
dashing  against  the  keel,  then  footsteps  were  heard 
on  the  deck  above  and  the  grinding  of  pulleys.  A 
sail  was  hoisted,  then  suddenly  the  boat  leaned  to 
one  side  and  began  to  rock.  In  a  few  moments  it 
was  pitching  heavily  on  the  rough  sea. 

"  Poor  Mattia,"  I  said,  taking  his  hand. 

"  I  don't  care,  we're  saved,"  he  said ;  "  what  if  I 
am  seasick?  " 

The  next  day  I  passed  my  time  between  the  cabin 
and  deck.  Mattia  wanted  to  be  left  alone.  When 
at  last  the  skipper  pointed  out  Harfleur  I  hurried 
down  to  the  cabin  to  tell  him  the  good  news.  As 
it  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  we  arrived  at 
Harfleur,  Bob's  brother  told  us  that  we  could  sleep 
on  the  boat  that  night  if  we  wished. 

u  When  you  want  to  go  back  to  England,"  he  said 
the  next  morning,  as  we  wished  him  good-by,  and 
thanked  him  for  what  he  had  done  for  us,  "  just  re- 
member that  the  Eclipse  sails  from  here  every 
Tuesday." 

It  was  a  kind  invitation,  but  Mattia  and  I  each 
of  us  had  our  reason  for  not  wishing  to  cross  the 

sea  again  .  .  .  yet  awhile. 

181 


854 NOBODY'S  BOY 

Fortunately  we  had  our  profits  from  Bob's  per- 
formance. In  all  we  had  twenty-seven  francs  and 
fifty  centimes.  Mattia  wanted  to  give  Bob  the 
twenty-seven  francs  in  payment  for  the  expenses  he 
had  been  put  to  for  my  flight,  but  he  would  not  ac- 
cept a  penny. 

"  Well,  which  way  shall  we  go?  "  I  asked  when 
we  landed  in  France. 

"  By  the  canal,"  replied  Mattia  promptly,  "  be- 
cause I  have  an  idea.  I  believe  the  Swan  is  on  the 
canal  this  summer,  now  that  Arthur's  been  so  ill, 
and  I  think  we  ought  to  find  it,"  he  added. 

"  But  what  about  Lise  and  the  others?  "  I  asked. 

"We'll  see  them  while  we're  looking  for  Mrs. 
Milligan.  As  we  go  up  the  canal,  we  can  stpp  and 
see  Lise." 

With  a  map  that  we  bought,  we  searched  for  the 
nearest  river :  it  was  the  Seine. 

"  We'll  go  up  the  Seine  and  ask  all  the  fishermen 
along  the  banks  if  they've  seen  the  Swan.  It  isn't 
like  any  other  boat  from  what  you  say,  and  if 
they've  seen  it  they'll  remember." 

Before  beginning  the  long  journey  that  was  prob- 
tably  ahead  of  us  I  bought  some  soft  soap  to  clean 
Capi.  To  me,  Capi  yellow  —  was  not  CapL  We 
washed  him  thoroughly,  each  one  taking  it  in  turns 
until  he  was  tired  out  But  Bob's  dye  was  an  ex- 
cellent quality  and  when  we  had  finished  he  was 
still  yellow,  but  a  shade  paler.  It  would  require 
many  shampoos  before  we  could  get  him  back  to 
his  original  color.  Fortunately  Normandy  is  a 


HUNTING  FOR  THE  SWAN     356 

country  of  brooks  and  each  day  we  gave  him  a  bath. 

We  reached  the  top  of  a  hill  one  morning  and 
Mattia  spied  the  Seine  away  ahead  of  us,  winding 
in  a  large  curve.  From  then  on,  we  began  to  ques- 
tion the  people.  Had  they  seen  the  Swan,  a  beau- 
tiful barge  with  a  veranda?  No  one  had  seen  it 
It  must  have  passed  in  the  night.  We  went  on  to 
Rouen,  where  again  we  commenced  our  questions, 
but  with  no  better  result  We  would  not  be  dis- 
couraged but  went  forward  questioning  every  one. 
We  had  to  stop  to  get  money  for  our  food  as  we 
went  along,  so  it  took  us  five  weeks  to  reach  the 
suburbs  of  Paris. 

Fortunately,  upon  arriving  at  Charenton,  we 
soon  knew  which  direction  we  had  to  take.  When 
we  put  the  important  question,  we  received  for  the 
first  time  the  answer  for  which  we  had  longed.  A 
boat  which  resembled  the  Swan,  a  large  pleasure 
boat,  had  passed  that  way;  turning  to  the  left,  it 
had  continued  up  the  Seine, 

We  were  by  the  docks.  Mattia  was  so  overjoyed 
that  he  commenced  to  dance  amongst  the  fishermen. 
Stopping  suddenly  he  took  his  violin  and  franti- 
cally played  a  triumphal  march.  While  he  played 
I  questioned  the  man  who  had  seen  the  barge. 
Without  a  doubt  it  was  the  Swan.  It  had  passed 
through  Charenton  about  two  months  ago. 

Two  months!  What  a  lead  it  had!  But  what 
did  that  matter!  We  had  our  legs  and  they  had 
the  legs  of  two  good  horses  and  we  should  join  them 
tome  day.  The  question  of  time  did  not  count. 


356  NOBODY'S  BOY 

The  great  thing,  the  wonderful  thing  was  that  the 
Swan  was  found! 

"  Who  was  right?  "  cried  Mattia. 

If  I  had  dared  I  would  have  admitted  to  Mattia 
that  I  had  very  great  hopes,  but  I  felt  that  I  could 
not  analyze  my  thoughts,  not  even  to  myself.  We 
had  no  need  to  stop  now  and  question  the  people. 
The  Swan  was  ahead  of  us.  We  had  only  to  follow 
the  Seine.  We  went  on  our  way,  getting  nearer  to 
where  Lise  lived.  I  wondered  if  she  had  seen  the 
barge  as  it  passed  through  the  locks  by  her  home. 
At  night  we  never  complained  of  weariness  and  we 
were  always  ready  the  next  morning  to  set  out  at 
an  early  hour. 

"Wake  me  up,"  said  Mattia,  who  was  fond  of 
sleeping.  And  when  I  woke  him  he  was  never  long 
in  jumping  to  his  feet. 

To  economize  we  ate  hard-boiled  eggs,  which  we 
bought  from  the  grocers,  and  bread.  Yet  Mattia 
was  very  fond  of  good  things. 

"  I  hope  Mrs.  Milligan  has  that  cook  still  who 
made  those  tarts,"  he  said ;  "  apricot  tarts  must  be 
fine!" 

"  Haven't  you  ever  tasted  them?  " 

"  I've  tasted  apple  puffs,  but  I've  never  tasted 
apricot  tarts.  I've  seen  them.  What  are  those  lit- 
tle white  things  they  stick  all  over  the  fruit?  " 

"Almonds." 

"  Oh.  .  .  ."  And  Mattia  opened  his  mouth  as 
though  he  were  swallowing  a  whole  tart. 

At  each  lock  we  had  news  of  the  Swan;  every  one 


HUNTING  FOR  THE  SWAN     857 

had  seen  the  beautiful  barge  and  they  spoke  of  the 
kind  English  lady  and  the  little  boy  lying  on  a  sofa 
under  the  veranda. 

We  drew  nearer  to  Lise's  home,  two  more  days, 
then  one,  then  only  a  few  hours.  We  came  in  sight 
of  the  house.  We  were  not  walking  now,  we  were 
running.  Capi,  who  seemed  to  know  where  we 
were  going,  started  ahead  at  a  gallop.  He  was 
going  to  let  Lise  know  that  we  were  coming.  She 
would  come  to  meet  us.  But  when  we  got  to  the 
house  there  was  a  woman  standing  at  the  door 
whom  we  did  not  know. 

"  Where's  Madame  Snriot?  "  we  inquired. 

For  a  moment  she  stared  at  us  as  though  we  were 
asking  a  foolish  question. 

"  She  doesn't  live  here  now,"  she  said  at  last ; 
"  she's  in  Egypt." 

"In  Egypt!" 

Mattia  and  I  looked  at  one  another  in  amaze- 
ment, Egypt!  We  did  not  know  just  where 
Egypt  was  situated,  but  we  thought,  vaguely,  it  was 
far  away,  very  far,  somewhere  beyond  the  seas. 

"And  Lise?    Do  you  know  Lise?  " 

"The  little  dumb  girl.  Yes,  I  know  her!  She 
went  off  with  an  English  lady  on  a  barge." 

Lise  on  the  Swan!  Were  we  dreaming?  Mattia 
and  I  stared  at  one  another. 

"  Are  you  Remi?  "  then  asked  the  woman. 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  Suriot  was  drowned  .  .  ." 

"  Drowned ! " 


858 NOBODY'S  BOY 

"  Yes,  he  fell  into  the  lock  and  got  caught  below 
on  a  nail.  And  his  poor  wife  didn't  know  what  to 
do,  and  then  a  lady  that  she  lived  with  before  she 
married  was  going  to  Egypt,  and  she  told  her  she 
would  take  her  as  nurse  to  look  after  the  children. 
She  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  little  Lise  and 
while  she  was  wondering  an  English  lady  and  her 
little  sick  son  came  along  the  canal  in  a  barge. 
They  talked.  And  the  English  lady,  who  was  look- 
ing for  some  one  to  play  with  her  son,  for  he  was 
tired  of  being  always  alone,  said  she  would  take 
Lise  along  and  she  would  educate  the  little  girl. 
The  lady  said  she  would  have  doctors  who  would 
cure  her  and  she  would  be  able  to  speak  some  day. 
Before  they  went,  Lise  wanted  her  aunt  to  explain 
to  me  what  I  was  to  say  to  you  if  you  came  to  see 
her.  That's  all." 

I  was  so  amazed  that  I  could  find  no  words.  But 
Mattia  never  lost  his  head  like  me. 

"  Where  did  the  English  lady  go?  "  he  asked. 

"  To  Switzerland.  Lise  was  to  have  written  to 
me  so  that  I  could  give  you  her  address,  but  I 
haven't  received  the  letter  yet" 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

FINDING  A   REAL  MOTHER 

»'T71ORWARD!    March!    Children !" cried  Mat- 

X/  tia  after  we  had  thanked  the  woman.  "  It 
is  not  only  Arthur  and  Mrs.  Milligan  now  that  we 
are  going  after,  but  Lise.  What  luck!  Who 
knows  what's  in  store  for  us ! " 

We  went  on  our  way  in  search  of  the  Swan,  only 
stopping  just  to  sleep  and  to  earn  a  few  sous. 

"  From  Switzerland  one  goes  to  Italy,"  said  Mat- 
tia  softly.  "  If,  while  running  after  Mrs.  Milligan, 
we  get  to  Lucca,  how  happy  my  little  Christina  will 
be." 

Poor  dear  Mattia!  He  was  helping  me  to  seek 
those  I  loved  and  I  had  done  nothing  to  help  him 
see  his  little  sister. 

At  Lyons  we  gained  on  the  Swan.  It  was  now 
only  six  weeks  ahead  of  us.  I  doubted  if  we  could 
catch  up  with  it  before  it  reached  Switzerland. 
And  then  I  did  not  know  that  the  river  Rhone  was 
not  navigable  up  to  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  We  had 
thought  that  Mrs.  Milligan  would  go  right  to 
Switzerland  on  her  boat.  What  was  my  surprise 
when  arriving  at  the  next  town  to  see  the  Swan  in 
the  distance.  We  began  to  run  along  the  banks  of 
the  river.  What  was  the  matter?  Everything  was 

SM 


860 NOBODY'S  BOY 

closed  up  on  the  barge.  There  were  no  flowers  on 
the  veranda.  What  had  happened  to  Arthur?  We 
stopped,  looking  at  each  other  both  with  the  same 
sorrowful  thoughts. 

A  man  who  had  charge  of  the  boat  told  us  that 
the  English  lady  had  gone  to  Switzerland  with  a 
sick  boy  and  a  little  dumb  girl.  They  had  gone 
in  a  carriage  with  a  maid;  the  other  servants  had 
followed  with  the  baggage.  We  breathed  again. 

"  Where  is  the  lady?  "  asked  Mattia. 

"  She  has  taken  a  villa  at  Vevy,  but  I  cannot  say 
where ;  she  is  going  to  spend  the  summer  there." 

We  started  for  Vevy.  Now  they  were  not  travel- 
ing away  from  us.  They  had  stopped  and  we 
should  be  sure  to  find  them  at  Vevy  if  we  searched. 
We  arrived  there  with  three  sous  in  our  pockets 
and  the  soles  off  our  boots.  But  Vevy  is  not  a  lit- 
tle village ;  it  is  a  town,  and  as  for  asking  for  Mrs. 
Milligan,  or  even  an  English  lady  with  a  sick  son 
and  a  dumb  girl,  we  knew  that  that  would  be  ab- 
surd. There  are  so  many  English  in  Vevy;  the 
place  is  almost  like  an  English  pleasure  resort. 
The  best  way,  we  thought,  was  to  go  to  all  the 
houses  where  they  might  be  likely  to  live.  That 
would  not  be  difficult;  we  had  only  to  play  our 
music  in  every  street  We  tried  everywhere,  but 
yet  we  could  see  no  signs  of  Mrs.  Milligan. 

We  went  from  the  lake  to  the  mountains,  from 
the  mountains  to  the  lake,  looking  to  the  right  and 
to  the  left,  questioning  from  time  to  time  people 
who,  from  their  expression,  we  thought  would  be 


FINDING  A  REAL  MOTHER    361 

disposed  to  listen  and  reply.  Some  one  sent  us  to 
a  chalet  built  way  up  on  the  mountain ;  another  as- 
sured us  that  she  lived  down  by  the  lake.  They 
were  indeed  English  ladies  who  lived  up  in  the 
chalet  on  the  mountain  and  the  villa  down  by  the 
lake ;  but  not  our  Mrs.  Milligan. 

One  afternoon  we  were  playing  in  the  middle  of 
the  road.  The  house  before  us  had  a  large  iron 
gate ;  the  house  behind  stood  way  back  in  a  garden. 
In  the  front  of  it  there  was  a  stone  wall.  I  was 
singing  my  loudest.  I  sung  the  first  verse  of  my 
Neapolitan  song  and  was  about  to  commence  the 
second  when  we  heard  a  weak  strange  voice  singing. 
Who  could  it  be?  What  a  strange  voice! 

"Arthur?"  inquired  Mattia. 

"  No,  no,  it  is  not  Arthur.  I  have  never  heard 
that  voice  before." 

But  Capi  commenced  to  whine  and  gave  every 
sign  of  intense  joy  while  jumping  against  the  wall. 

"  Who  is  singing?  "  I  cried,  unable  to  contain 
myself. 

"  Remi !  "  called  a  weak  voice. 

My  name  instead  of  an  answer!  Mattia  and  I 
looked  at  one  another,  thunderstruck.  As  we  stood 
looking  stupidly  into  each  other's  faces,  I  saw  a 
handkerchief  being  waved  at  the  end  of  the  wall. 
We  ran  to  the  spot.  It  was  not  until  we  got  to  the 
hedge  which  surrounded  the  other  side  of  the  gar- 
den that  we  saw  the  one  who  was  waving. 

Lise!  At  last  we  had  found  her  and  not  far 
away  were  Mrs.  Milligan  and  Arthur ! 


862 NOBODY'S  BOY     

But  who  had  sung?  That  was  the  question  that 
Mattia  and  I  asked  as  soon  as  we  found  words. 

"  I,"  answered  Lise. 

Lise  was  singing !    Lise  was  talking ! 

The  doctors  had  said  that  one  day  Lise  would  re- 
cover her  speech,  and  very  probably,  under  the 
shock  of  a  violent  emotion,  but  I  did  not  think  that 
it  could  be  possible.  And  yet  the  miracle  had  hap- 
pened, and  it  was  upon  knowing  that  I  had  come  to 
her  and  hearing  me  sing  the  Neapolitan  song  I  used 
to  sing  to  her,  that  she  had  felt  this  intense  emo- 
tion, and  was  restored  to  her  voice.  I  was  so  over- 
come at  this  thought  that  I  had  to  stretch  out  my 
hand  to  steady  myself. 

"Where  is  Mrs.  Milligan?"  I  asked,  "and  Ar- 
thur?" 

Lise  moved  her  lips,  but  she  could  only  utter  in- 
articulate sounds,  then  impatiently  she  used  the 
language  of  her  hands,  for  her  tongue  was  still 
clumsy  in  forming  words.  She  pointed  down  the 
'garden  and  we  saw  Arthur  lying  in  an  invalid's 
chair.  On  one  side  of  him  was  his  mother,  and  on 
the  other  .  .  .  Mr.  James  Milligan.  In  fear,  in 
fact  almost  terror,  I  stooped  down  behind  the  hedge. 
Lise  must  have  wondered  why  I  did  so.  Then  I 
made  a  sign  to  her  to  go. 

"  Go,  Lise,  or  you'll  betray  me,"  I  said.  "  Come 
to-morrow  here  at  nine  o'clock  and  be  alone,  then 
I  can  talk  to  you." 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  went  up  the 
garden. 


FINDING  A  REAL  MOTHER    863 

"  We  ought  not  to  wait  till  to-morrow  to  speak 
to  Mrs.  Milligan,"  said  Mattia,  "  In  the  meantime 
that  uncle  might  kill  Arthur.  He  has  never  seen 
me  and  I'm  going  to  see  Mrs.  Milligan  at  once  and 
tell  her." 

There  was  some  reason  in  what  Mattia  proposed, 
so  I  let  him  go  off,  telling  him  that  I  would  wait 
for  him  at  a  short  distance  under  a  big  chestnut 
tree.  I  waited  a  long  time  for  Mattia.  More  than 
a  dozen  times  I  wondered  if  I  had  not  made  a  mis- 
take in  letting  him  go.  At  last  I  saw  him  coming 
back,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Milligan.  I  ran  to  her, 
and,  seizing  the  hand  that  she  held  out  to  me,  I  bent 
over  it.  But  she  put  her  arms  round  me  and,  stoop- 
ing down,  kissed  me  tenderly  on  the  forehead. 

"  Poor,  dear  child,"  she  murmured. 

With  her  beautiful  white  fingers  she  pushed  the 
hair  back  from  my  forehead  and  looked  at  me  for  a 
long  time. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  whispered  softly. 

I  was  too  happy  to  say  a  word. 

"  Mattia  and  I  have  had  a  long  talk,"  she  said, 
"  but  I  want  you  to  tell  me  yourself  how  you  came 
to  enter  the  Driscoll  family." 

I  told  her  what  she  asked  and  she  only  inter- 
rupted me  to  tell  me  to  be  exact  on  certain  points. 
Never  had  I  been  listened  to  with  such  attention. 
Her  eyes  did  not  leave  mine. 

When  I  had  finished  she  was  silent  for  some  time, 
still  looking  at  me.  At  last  she  said :  "  This  is  a 
very  serious  matter  and  we  must  act  prudently. 


364 NOBODY'S  BOY     

But  from  this  moment  you  must  consider  yourself 
as  the  friend,"  she  hesitated  a  little,  "  as  the  brother 
of  Arthur.  In  two  hours'  time  go  to  the  Hotel  des 
Alpes;  for  the  time  being  you  will  stay  there.  I 
will  send  some  one  to  the  hotel  to  meet  you.  I  am 
obliged  to  leave  you  now." 

Again  she  kissed  me  and  after  having  shaken 
hands  with  Mattia  she  walked  away  quickly. 

"  What  did  you  tell  Mrs.  Milligan?  "  I  demanded 
of  Mattia. 

"All  that  I  have  said  to  you  and  a  lot  more 
things,"  he  replied.  "Ah,  she  is  a  kind  lady,  a 
beautiful  lady ! " 

"  Did  you  see  Arthur?  " 

"  Only  from  a  distance,  but  near  enough  to  see 
that  he  looked  a  nice  sort  of  boy." 

I  continued  to  question  Mattia,  but  he  answered 
me  vaguely. 

Although  we  were  in  our  ragged  street  suits,  we 
were  received  at  the  hotel  by  a  servant  in  a  black 
suit  and  a  white  tie.  He  took  us  to  our  apartment. 
How  beautiful  wre  thought  our  bedroom.  There 
were  two  white  beds  side  by  side.  The  windows 
opened  onto  a  balcony  overlooking  the  lake.  The 
servant  asked  us  what  wre  would  like  for  dinner, 
which  he  would  serve  us  on  the  balcony  if  we 
wished. 

"  Have  you  any  tarts?  "  asked  Mattia. 

"  Yes,  rhubarb  tarts,  strawberry  tarts,  and  goose- 
berry tarts." 

"  Good.    Then  you  can  serve  these  tarts." 


FINDING  A  REAL  MOTHER    865 

"  All  three?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"And  what  entree?  What  meat?  Vegeta- 
bles?" 

At  each  offer  Mattia  opened  his  eyes,  bnt  he 
would  not  allow  himself  to  be  disconcerted. 

"  Anything,  just  what  you  like,"  he  replied  coolly. 

The  butler  left  the  room  gravely. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Milligan  came  to  see  us;  she 
was  accompanied  by  a  tailor  and  a  shirt  maker  who 
took  our  measures  for  some  suits  and  shirts.  Mrs. 
Milligan  told  us  that  Lise  was  still  trying  to  talk 
and  that  the  doctor  had  declared  that  she  would 
soon  be  cured,  then  after  having  spent  an  hour  with 
us  she  left  us,  again  kissing  me  tenderly  and  shak- 
ing hands  warmly  with  Mattia. 

For  four  days  she  came,  each  time  she  was  more 
affectionate  and  loving  to  me,  yet  still  with  a  cer- 
tain restraint  The  fifth  day  the  maid,  whom  I 
had  known  on  the  Swan,  came  in  her  place.  She 
told  us  that  Mrs.  Milligan  was  expecting  us  and 
that  a  carriage  was  at  the  hotel  doors  to  take  us 
to  her.  Mattia  took  his  seat  in  the  brougham  as 
though  he  had  been  used  to  riding  in  a  carriage  all 
his  life.  Capi  also  jumped  in  without  any  embar- 
rassment and  sat  down  on  the  velvet  cushions. 

The  drive  was  short,  it  seemed  to  me  very  short, 
for  I  was  like  one  in  a  dream,  my  head  filled  with 
foolish  ideas,  or  at  least  what  I  thought  might  be 
foolish.  We  were  shown  into  a  drawing-room. 
Mrs.  Milligan,  Arthur,  and  Lise  were  there.  Ar- 


366 NOBODY'S  BOY 

thur  held  out  his  arms.  I  rushed  over  to  him,  then 
I  kissed  Lise.  Mrs.  Milligan  kissed  me. 

"  At  last,"  she  said,  "  the  day  has  come  when  you 
can  take  the  place  that  belongs  to  you." 

I  looked  to  her  to  ask  her  to  explain.  She  went 
over  to  a  door  and  opened  it.  Then  came  the  grand 
surprise !  Mother  Barberin  entered.  In  her  arms 
she  carried  some  baby's  clothes,  a  white  cashmere 
pelisse,  a  lace  bonnet,  some  woolen  shoes.  She  had 
only  time  to  put  these  things  on  the  table  before  I 
was  hugging  her.  While  I  fondled  her,  Mrs.  Milli- 
gan gave  an  order  to  the  servant.  I  heard  only  the 
name  of  Milligan,  but  I  looked  up  quickly.  I  know 
that  I  turned  pale. 

"  You  have  nothing  to  fear,"  said  Mrs.  Milligan 
gently ;  "  come  over  here  and  place  your  hand  in 
mine." 

James  Milligan  came  into  the  room,  smiling  and 
showing  his  white  pointed  teeth.  When  he  saw  me, 
the  smile  turned  to  a  horrible  grimace.  Mrs. 
Milligan  did  not  give  him  time  to  speak. 

"  I  asked  for  you  to  come  here,"  she  said,  her  voice 
shaking,  "  to  introduce  you  to  my  eldest  son,  whom 
I  have  at  last  found  " ;  she  pressed  my  hand.  "  But 
you  have  met  him  already ;  you  saw  him  at  the  home 
of  the  man  who  stole  him,  when  you  went  there  to 
inquire  after  his  health." 

"What  does  this  mean?"  demanded  Milligan. 

"  That  the  man  who  is  serving  a  sentence  for  rob- 
bing a  church  has  made  a  full  confession.  He  has 
stated  how  he  stole  my  baby  and  took  it  to  Paris  and 


left  it  there.  Here  are  the  clothes  that  my  child 
wore.  It  was  this  good  woman  who  brought  up  my 
son.  Do  you  wish  to  read  this  confession.  Do  you 
wish  to  examine  these  clothes?  " 

James  Milligan  looked  at  us  as  though  he  would 
liked  to  have  strangled  us,  then  he  turned  on  his 
heels.  At  the  threshold  he  turned  round  and  said : 
"  We'll  see  what  the  courts  will  think  of  this  boy's 
story." 

My  mother,  I  may  call  her  so  now,  replied  quietly : 
"  You  may  take  the  matter  to  the  courts ;  I  have  not 
done  so  because  you  are  my  husband's  brother." 

The  door  closed.  Then,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life,  I  kissed  my  mother  as  she  kissed  me. 

"Will  you  tell  your  mother  that  I  kept  the 
secret?"  said  Mattia,  coming  up  to  us. 

"You  knew  all,  then?" 

"  I  told  Mattia  not  to  speak  of  all  this  to  you," 
said  my  mother,  "  for  though  I  did  believe  that  you 
were  my  son,  I  had  to  have  certain  proofs,  and  get 
Madame  Barberin  here  with  the  clothes.  How  un- 
happy we  should  have  been  if,  after  all,  we  had  made 
a  mistake.  We  have  these  proofs  and  we  shall 
never  be  parted  again.  You  will  live  with  your 
mother  and  brother?  "  Then,  pointing  to  Mattia 
and  Lise,  "  and,"  she  added,  "  with  those  whom  you 
loved  when  you  were  poor." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE  DEEAM  COME  TRUE 

YEAES  have  passed.  I  now  live  in  the  home  of 
my  ancestors,  Milligan  Park.  The  miserable 
little  wanderer  who  slept  so  often  in  a  stable  was 
heir  to  an  old  historical  castle.  It  is  a  beautiful 
old  place  about  twenty  miles  west  of  the  spot  where 
I  jumped  from  the  train  to  escape  from  the  police. 
I  live  here  with  my  mother,  my  brother  and  my 
wife. 

We  are  going  to  baptize  our  first  child,  little 
Mattia.  To-night  all  those  who  were  my  friends  in 
my  poorer  days  will  meet  under  my  roof  to  celebrate 
the  event  and  I  am  going  to  offer  to  each  one  as  a 
little  token  a  copy  of  my  "Memoirs,"  which  for  the 
last  six  months  I  have  been  writing  and  which  to-day 
I  have  received  from  the  bookbinder. 

This  reunion  of  all  our  friends  is  a  surprise  for 
my  wife;  she  will  see  her  father,  her  sister,  her 
brothers,  her  aunt.  Only  my  mother  and  brother 
are  in  the  secret.  One  will  be  missing  from  this 
feast.  Alas!  poor  master!  poor  Vitalis!  I  could 
not  do  much  for  you  in  life,  but  at  my  request,  my 
mother  has  had  erected  a  marble  tomb  and  placed 
your  bust,  the  bust  of  Carlo  Balzini,  upon  the  tomb. 
A  copy  of  this  bust  is  before  me  now  as  I  write,  and 

368 


THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE   869 

often  while  penning  my  "  Memoirs,"  I  have  looked 
up  and  my  eyes  have  caught  yours.  I  have  not  for- 
gotten you ;  I  shall  never  forget  you,  dear  master, 
dear  Vitalis. 

Here  comes  my  mother  leaning  on  my  brother's 
arm,  for  it  is  now  the  son  who  supports  the  mother, 
for  Arthur  has  grown  big  and  strong.  A  few  steps 
behind  my  mother  comes  an  old  woman  dressed  like 
a  French  peasant  and  carrying  in  her  arms  a  little 
baby  robed  in  a  white  pelisse.  It  is  dear  Mother 
Barberin,  the  little  baby  is  my  son  Mattia. 

Arthur  brings  me  a  copy  of  the  Times  and  points 
to  a  correspondence  from  Vienna  which  states  that 
Mattia,  the  great  musician,  has  completed  his  series 
of  concerts,  and  that,  in  spite  of  his  tremendous  suc- 
cess in  Vienna,  he  is  returning  to  England  to  keep 
an  engagement  which  cannot  be  broken.  I  did  not 
need  to  read  the  article  for,  although  all  the  world 
now  calls  Mattia  the  Chopin  of  the  violin,  I  have 
watched  him  develop  and  grow.  When  we  were  all 
three  working  together  under  the  direction  of  our 
tutors,  Mattia  made  little  progress  in  Latin  and 
Greek,  but  quickly  outstripped  his  professors  in 
music.  Espinassous,  the  barber-musician  of  Men- 
des,  had  been  right 

A  footman  brings  me  a  telegram : 

"  Sea  very  rough !  Alas !  Have  been  very  ill,  but 
managed  to  stop  on  my  way  at  Paris  for  Christina. 
Shall  be  with  you  at  4  o'clock.  Send  carriage  to 
meet  us.  MATTIA." 


870 NOBODY'S  BOY 

Mentioning  Christina,  I  glanced  at  Arthur,  but  he 
turned  away  his  eyes.  I  knew  that  Arthur  loved 
Mattia's  little  sister,  and  I  knew  that  in  time,  al- 
though not  just  yet,  my  mother  would  become 
reconciled  to  the  match.  Birth  was  not  everything. 
She  had  not  opposed  my  marriage,  and  later,  when 
she  saw  that  it  was  for  Arthur's  happiness,  she 
would  not  oppose  his. 

Lise  comes  down  the  gallery,  my  beautiful  wife. 
She  passes  her  arm  round  my  mother's  neck. 

"  Mother  dear,"  she  said,  "  there  is  some  secret 
afoot  and  I  believe  that  you  are  in  the  plot.  I 
know  if  it  is  a  surprise  and  you  are  in  it,  it  is  some- 
thing for  our  happiness,  but  I  am  none  the  less 
curious." 

"Come,  Lise,  you  shall  have  the  surprise  now," 
I  said,  as  I  heard  the  sound  of  carriage  wheels  on  the 
gravel  outside. 

One  by  one  our  guests  arrive  and  Lise  and  I  stand 
in  the  hall  to  welcome  them.  There  is  Mr.  Acquin, 
Aunt  Catherine  and  Etiennette,  and  a  bronze  young 
man  who  has  just  returned  from  a  botanical  expedi- 
tion and  is  now  the  famous  botanist  —  Benjamin 
Acquin.  Then  comes  a  young  man  and  an  old  man. 
This  journey  is  doubly  interesting  to  them  for  when 
they  leave  us  they  are  going  to  Wales  to  visit  the 
mines.  The  young  one  is  to  make  observations 
which  he  will  carry  back  to  his  own  country  to 
strengthen  the  high  position  which  he  now  holds  in 
the  Truyere  mine,  and  the  other  to  add  to  the  fine 
collection  of  minerals  which  the  town  of  Varses  has 


"  LET   VS  NOW  PLAY  FOR  THOSE  WE  LOVE. 


THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE   871 

honored  him  by  accepting.  It  is  the  old  professor 
and  Alexix.  Lise  and  I  greet  our  guests,  the 
landau  dashes  up  from  the  opposite  direction  with 
Arthur,  Christina  and  Mattia.  Following  in  its 
wake  is  a  dog  cart  driven  by  a  smart  looking  man, 
beside  whom  is  seated  a  rugged  sailor.  The  gen- 
tleman holding  the  reins  is  Bob,  now  very  pros- 
perous, and  the  man  by  his  side  is  his  brother,  who 
helped  me  to  escape  from  England. 

When  the  baptismal  feast  is  over,  Mattia  draws 
me  aside  to  the  window. 

"  We  have  often  played  to  indifferent  people,"  he 
said ; ft  let  us  now,  on  this  memorable  occasion,  play 
for  those  we  love?  " 

"  To  you  there  is  no  pleasure  without  music,  eh, 
Mattia,  old  boy,"  I  said,  laughing ;  "  do  you  remem- 
ber how  you  scared  our  cow?  " 

Mattia  grinned. 

From  a  beautiful  box,  lined  with  velvet,  he  drew 
out  an  old  violin  which  would  not  have  brought  two 
francs  if  he  had  wished  to  sell  it.  I  took  from  its 
coverings  a  harp,  the  wood  of  which  had  been 
washed  so  often  by  the  rain,  that  it  was  now  re- 
stored to  its  original  color. 

"  Will  you  sing  your  Neapolitan  song?  "  asked 
Mattia, 

"  Yes,  for  it  was  that  which  gave  Lise  back  her 
speech,"  I  said,  smiling  at  my  wife  who  stood  beside 
me. 

Our  guests  drew  round  us  in  a  circle.  A  dog  sud- 
denly came  forward.  Good  old  Capi,  he  is  very  old 


372  NOBODY'S  BOY 

and  deaf  but  he  still  has  good  eyesight.  From  the 
,^hion  which  he  occupies  he  has  recognized  the 
harp  and  up  he  comes,  limping,  for  "  the  Perform- 
ance." In  his  jaws  he  holds  a  saucer;  he  wants  to 
make  the  rounds  of  the  "  distinguished  audience." 
He  tries  to  walk  on  his  two  hind  paws,  but  strength 
fails  him,  so  he  sits  down  gravely  and  with  his  paw 
on  his  heart  he  bows  to  the  society. 

Our  song  ended,  Capi  gets  up  as  best  he  can  and 
"  makes  ttfe  round."  Each  one  drops  something 
into  the  saucer  and  Capi  delightedly  brings  it  to  me. 
It  is  the  best  collection  he  has  ever  made.  There  are 
only  gold  and  silver  coins  — 170  francs. 

I  kiss  him  on  his  cold  nose  as  in  other  days,  and 
the  thought  of  the  miseries  of  my  childhood  gives  me 
an  idea.  I  tell  my  guests  that  this  sum  shall  be  the 
first  subscription  to  found  a  Home  for  little  street 
musicians.  My  mother  and  I  will  donate  the  rest. 

"Dear  Madam,"  said  Mattia,  bending  over  my 
mother's  hand,  "  let  me  have  a  little  share  in  this 
good  work.  The  proceeds  of  my  first  concert  in 
London  will  be  added  to  Capi's  collection." 

And  Capi  barked  approval. 


THE  END 


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